The Hostile Encounters
by Vamps-with-Wings
Summary: Maximum and The Shadow; the two best street fighters of their generation. Their rivalry is fueled full force when the biggest brawl in years is set to go down. For the first time they will meet... and only one will be victorious. FAX!
1. Infinite

**Authors Note: I had the idea for this story a long time ago, and now I finally have some time to write it all out. Know that this story is strictly AH though there will probably be references to the people (obviously) and places that are in the actual books. I think that's all for now . . . read on!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride. I wish I did . . . but alas, I do not.**

**Chapter One:**

_**Infinite**_

Punch. Duck. Side-step. Kick.

. . . And repeat.

Punch. Duck. Side-step. Kick.

When a predator is on the hunt, they're quick; swift. They don't hesitate when the kill is within their reach. They see an opening and they strike. Street fighting is much the same. When you see a chink in your opponents defense, you go for the knockout.

Punch. Duck. Side-step. Kick. Uppercut to the jaw. Flip. Twist. Face, _meet pavement_.

"Nice," Jared conceded, the strain clear in his voice as he pushed himself to his knees. He wiped a few droplets of sweat from his brow, breathing heavily. "I didn't expect that."

"But _he _will." I may not have ever seen my biggest enemy in action, but his reputation preceded him. "There's a reason he's one of the best. They say he's smart. He can read his opponent like an open book. Plus he's got raw power on his side," I replied crossly, lugging Jared to his feet.

Jared had been my trainer from the very beginning. Young, strong guy who got mixed up in the business of illegal street fighting. Due to an injury five years ago, he had to hang up his old ways. That didn't stop him from finding a new protege, though. I was fourteen when he first discovered me. A rough, stubborn girl with an attitude that matched her wicked punch. I had yet to grow into my power, but Jared taught me how to use it in ways I never considered.

As you can imagine, I rose quickly in the ranks, despite my being a female. I didn't take crap from condescending, pig-like jerks. They either got pummeled into the dirt, or learned to fight back. I wasn't your average little miss beauty pageant queen, after all. I was tougher than that.

"You worry too much," Jared insisted, tossing me a bottle of water. I took a big gulp, the liquid mixing with the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

"I'm not worried," I said offhandedly, lounging against the rings ropes. When it came down to the real fights, we didn't have this sort of luxury. The brawls were usually set in some discreet alley or abandoned warehouse. Jared liked to practice in the 'right environment' though, which meant regular meetings at the boxing ring downtown. The owner was a bulky, studious man who stayed out of your way. He didn't care what your purpose was, as long as you didn't take things too far.

"Then why are you getting yourself so worked up about him?"

"I'm not!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air. "I'm just trying to figure out a strategy by pointing out his strengths."

"You can't know his strengths without his weaknesses," Jared pointed out.

I glared at him, suppressing a sigh. He was right, after all, but I didn't know much about the kid in the first place other than that he was male and my age. It was the perfect match-up. The fans were going crazy over the prospect that we were going to fight. It was even better that neither of us had seen the other in action before. We would meet as total strangers.

"Can't we just keep going?" I asked pleadingly, because my nerves were all hyped up and frazzled. All my senses were heightened, and I was acutely aware of my surroundings. This was how it was once I got into my zone.

"Su-" he began, but a sharp chirping from his bundle of possessions cut him off. I rolled my eyes, recognizing the ring tone.

"Hello?"

I waited impatiently as he started into a deep conversation with his wife. Jared's only twenty six, but he's been married since he was twenty. I didn't much mind his wife, but she was forever interrupting our training sessions.

"Alright, I'll be right there . . . Uh huh . . . Yeah, two o'clock . . . Love you too . . . Bye."

"Where are you going!" I complain when he finally hangs the phone up, his expression grim.

"Sarah got called into work. I have to pick up the kid from daycare," he explained.

My expression immediately softened, and a wide grin spread across my face. For as long as I had known Jared (even prior to his getting me involved in his old world), he had always insisted on not having any children. He wasn't fit to be a father, was his excuse.

But here we were, and he was racing off to pick up his son.

Ian was an impossible mix of attitude and adorable at only age one. He was a part of the few minority in this world that wasn't afraid of me. When I babysat occasionally, he'd throw his applesauce in my face and his toy cars just the same as he would to anyone else. My reputation didn't seem to bother him in the least.

"Have fun playing daddy," I said mockingly, and he rolled his eyes.

"One day Max . . . you'll understand one day," is all he says in reply. By my sudden silence he gauges my reaction to his words. He glances up quickly, an apology on his lips and sorrow in his eyes.

"I didn't mean-" he begins hurriedly.

"It's okay," I say in a small voice, glaring at the ground.

The thing Jared always seemed to forget was that I _did _understand. I've had to play mother practically my entire life. That was just how it was when you had a douchebag of a father who runs out on you the day after your youngest sister is born, and your mom can't handle raising three kids so she resorts to the mind-numbing paradise of drug abuse; leaving you, at only age eight, to somehow provide for your two younger siblings _and _a mother who's always high on crack.

Life was tough, but I had learned to suck it up and roll with the punches long ago.

Angel and Gazzy had always seemed to understand that we wouldn't have the picture perfect lives they always saw on TV. They knew that they had to behave, and not draw attention to themselves, or else they'd get taken away. They attended school dutifully, because I had told them too. They took care of Mommy when I wasn't there, because I told them too. They were wary of prying strangers, and they never wasted anything.

They were the smartest kids I knew from the very beginning; even before I taught them to walk and talk.

They were getting older though. Gazzy was eleven now, and was more interested in playing sports and blowing things up than he was caring for the comatose mother lying in her bed at home, wasting away to nothing. Angel was nine, and was feeling the pressure to have the luxury items all her friends did.

Despite this, they never once complained. They were miracle children, that I was sure of.

"Max . . ." Jared said, watching as my eyes narrowed.

"I'm fine," I insisted, trying to put on a smile for his sake. It turned out more as a grimace though, so I shut down all pretenses.

"Maybe I should call Sarah back and tell her I'm going to need another hour or so," he suggested, his hand already reaching for his phone.

"No, no! I'm fine. _Really_. Go pick up Ian and give him the best day ever." I was glad that this time, my smile wasn't fake.

"Are you sure . . .? Because, you know I'm always going to be here for you. No matter what. You're like my little sister. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you."

His words though, implied my entire family. The thing was, he himself was barely scraping by. I couldn't take any money from him, not when they were already below the poverty line as well. He had his own priorities, and I had mine.

"Thanks Jared," I said meaningfully, and he grinned in response.

"Training tomorrow?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow as he lifted the strap of his bag and swung it over his shoulder lithely.

"I can't," I admitted. "I promised Angel and Gazzy I'd take them shopping."

"Shopping?" he inquired in concern. He was acutely aware of our financial state.

"It's okay. I have some extra money from last months rent. We can afford a few new t-shirts and a pair of jeans. Plus, the fight next weekend will cover any expenses."

What I didn't tell him was that I was also going to be shopping for more than clothes. A job was what I needed. A _real _one. Not some street fighting gig that raked in a few bucks per brawl.

"Alright," he said warily, giving me a searching look.

"_Bye_," I said with emphasis, nodding to the clock on the wall.

He sighed and shook his head, hopping down from the ring. He was halfway to the door when he turned again. I waved, giving him a small smile. Still, he hesitated. After a few minutes though he grudgingly turned once more, disappearing amongst the cluttered gym.

I waited until there was no chance of him turning back before I gathered my own things. I wiped my face off with my shirt, just then noticing the sticky perspiration dripping into my eyes. My hair was matted with sweat, and my clothes were clinging to my body. I muttered something about air conditioning, scooping up my now empty water bottle. I eyed the remaining droplets speculatively, before tossing it neatly into a trash bin. Ducking under the ropes, I scanned the mostly empty gym, my eyes dragging across the equipment.

There was a man in the corner jumping rope, the muscles in his arms twitching spastically. He was looking straight at me, his expression gruff. It was probably another sullen opponent of mine, sour about being defeated by a seventeen year old girl.

He, however, appeared to be the only serious person in the building. All the others were puny in comparison, lifting ten pound weights like it was some great struggle. I rolled my eyes, wiping my hand across my brow. _Some people_.

My backpack was heavy as it thumped against my spine each step I took. All I had to look forward to tonight was a frigid shower and a mountain of homework. The teachers at my high school were absolute tyrants when it came to assignments. It was like they thought all of us had hours of free time each night. They were oblivious to the fact that some people, namely me, had other more important obligations. To them education was everything. To me . . . well, I just wanted to survive with my family in-tact.

I shoved my way through the door, blinking in the fading afternoon light. The tall, but rundown, buildings around me were ghostly in the coming twilight. Shadows jumped out at me at frequent intervals. Somewhere off in the distance the specter-like laughter of children reached my ears. I shoved my hands in my pockets and bent my head down low. You avoided eye-contact in this part of the neighborhood . . . not that I couldn't take anyone that jumped at me. I tried not to cause a scene, though.

There was shuffling and low whispers from an alley up ahead. I made sure that my pace stayed regular, and I didn't twitch in the slightest. If my behavior was odd, it would arouse suspicion. Despite my careful precautions, all movement ceased in the darkness as soon as my figure came into sight. I looped along as usual, holding my breath. Not a soul approached me, and once I was far enough away, the drug deal resumed as normal.

Nothing was different in this infinite routine we all called life.

**Authors Note: Well, what do you think? Reviews are life sustaining! So please, please, please drop me one (: Tell me if you love it, tell me if you hate it.**


	2. Prosperity

**Authors Note: I'm such a spaz. I start freaking out because I haven't updated in so long . . . only to realize it's just scraping by two days. This is fortunate for you, because it means I'm probably always going to opt into updating quickly. A few days seem like torture to me . . . Anyway, read on.**

**Chapter Two:**

_**Prosperity**_

My mind was strangely sluggish when I woke up the next morning. Maybe it had something to do with lack of sleep, but the night beforehand had been relatively normal. The same nightmares as always whispered in the back of my head, a haunting chant that chilled me to the bone. Vague tendrils of them still lingered in my thoughts, even as I pushed myself off of the mattress and made my way out into the small hall.

Angel's bed was empty, barren of nothing but the worn wool blanket that occupied the space she once resided in, still molded to her shape. This didn't bother me much, considering she was usually up at ungodly hours anyway.

I tip-toed past the next door, pausing for a heartbeat to listen for the rustle of life inside. All I heard was the low thrumming of the TV, and the occasional spurt of static as the cable stuttered back to life after dying out like it always had, with the poor reception we got. A rancid smell was creeping out from the crack under the bottom of the door, and I stepped back as if the stench was a tangible thing, out to get me.

A sudden blare from the living room broke me from my dream-like state, and I cautiously retreated, ignoring the smoke wafting into the corridor from her room. It didn't matter what time of day it was. Mom was drugged no matter what. I wondered not for the first time if, at this point, she had any sort of concept of time. If she realized it was seven in the morning, and she had hungry children ready for breakfast . . .

Even if she did, the door wouldn't crack open the slightest bit until she needed more substance. She didn't even leave to use the restroom, she just soiled away her bedsheets. The smell probably didn't bother her. There was no way it overcame the rotting of her own hygiene. It probably didn't even breach the drug-induced barrier in her mind.

For all I knew, she was in absolute heaven, wallowing away in her own self-pity.

"Max?" a sleep voice asked. I whirled to find Angel, still in her pajamas, standing in the hall a few feet from me. She was rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"I thought you'd already be awake by now," I said with a small smile, coming to stand in front of her. "You weren't in the room."

"I had to go to the bathroom," she replied, yawning again. I ruffled her blonde curls, and she grinned up at me adorably.

"Do you want to go back to bed?" I asked, steering her towards our room.

She shook her head, planting her feet. "Where's Gazzy?"

"I haven't made it that far yet," I said honestly, shooting a glance at Mom's bedroom door. Angel seemed to sense my discomfort, because she grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. "I'm sure he's just watching cartoons."

Just then another crash sounded from the living room, this time clearer and more defined. I rush forwards, Angel following at my heels. I burst out into the open, only to find Gazzy standing in front of the TV, his expression guilty. He was holding a lopsided picture frame, a crack running jaggedly through it's middle.

"Oops," he said to break the silence, grimacing apologetically.

"What did you do?" I sighed.

"Well . . . I was watching TV, and there was this ninja that popped up, and he got into a battle with a pirate . . . and I kind of started mimicking their moves. I didn't mean to kick the picture, I swear! It got in my way, though," he explained hurriedly.

I stared at him for a few more agonizing seconds, my eyes narrowed. He began to squirm uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot. I let him worry a little while longer before I threw my head back and laughed.

"Wha . . . what?" he asked incredulously.

"It's fine Gazzy," I assured him, taking the frame from his hands carefully. The two pieces clicked against each other as I pressed them together. "It's just a picture frame. At least you fessed up to it."

"Yeah, because I didn't have time to hide the evidence," he muttered, slumping back onto the couch in relief. I decided it was best to ignore his comment. You had to pick your battles.

Gazzy was infamous for being responsible for a lot of items that suddenly disappear. Sometimes, he'd rather just be a kid . . . and in those thought-less moments, objects get shattered and torn to shreds. He seemed to forget that we don't live in prosperity. I think we all do every once in awhile.

So in a way Mom's current condition was like a slap in the face when we started to think things weren't too bad.

"Max, I'm hungry," Angel said, tugging at my shirt. I looked down at her, my eyes clouded over for a moment. I shook my head to clear myself of the daze, focusing on her hopeful expression.

"Well let's find you something to eat then," I announced, scooping her up in my arms. She giggled uncontrollably for a minute, wrapping her skinny arms around my neck. I carried her into the kitchen, knowing Gazzy wouldn't be very far behind. We were all bottom-less pits when it came to food.

I rummaged around in the cupboards, scanning the shelves. A few empty cereal boxes later I realized we were running dangerously low on food. I need to go to the grocery, which meant . . .

"Um . . . guys?" I inquired, turning to face them resolutely. Their happy faces fell at the look I was wearing.

"What's wrong?" Gazzy groaned. "You're wearing the 'I'm about to let you down' face."

I didn't stop to ponder this, shoving straight on. "I need to go to the store."

They looked at me in confusion, blinking. I'm sure they didn't quite understand what was so bad about this.

"We can't go shopping today," I explained, biting my lip. "I'm sorry."

I didn't expect them to cry and throw a temper tantrum. I didn't anticipate volatile anger. They were too used to the routine to do that. Instead, they nodded slowly, frowning to themselves. I was always the bearer of bad news.

"That's okay," Angel said after a moment, trying to sound bright. "Maybe next week."

"Yeah," I replied, though I knew it wasn't going to happen. "Maybe."

_And maybe Mom will suddenly come to her senses and actually be a loving parent while we're at it_, I thought bitterly to myself, though I didn't let the emotion show.

After munching down a few granola bars that I found in the dark recesses of the cupboards, with only minimal complaints about the staleness of them, life resumed as normal. Gazzy soon drifted back to the television, and Angel sat by his side, murmuring softly to her teddy bear, which she clutched protectively under her arm. A small smile graced my lips as I watched them.

The faded and crumbling wallpaper sunk away, and the stained carpet retreated into the dark. The desolate and dirt covered sofa seemed to disappear as well, and all I could see was Gazzy's grin and Angel's soft smile. I captured the moment in my memory forever, knowing that there were very few times when they were so happy and content.

A sharp ringing intercepted my thoughts, and I vaguely recognized it to be the phone. I ignored it for a few moments, but the insistent chirping was distracting my mind, and I finally gave up and rushed to where it was sitting in its cradle.

"Hello?" I answered, just as the machine was picking it up,

"Hello," the woman on the other line said in a friendly tone. "Is Rebecca Ride available to speak?"

"Not at the moment. She's sleeping," I lied effortlessly. "May I take a message?"

"Yes. Would you please tell her that Denise called from Children's Services?"

I spluttered incoherently for a moment, holding the phone away from my mouth so she wouldn't hear. What in the world could they possibly want with us! We haven't been bothered by them for two years. What changed?

"Pardon me," I interrupted, "but what seems to be the problem?"

"A letter was sent out about a month ago that needed immediate returning. We have had no further notice from Rebecca that the information was reciprocated. An emergency examination will be under-way." All of a sudden, her voice wasn't quite as friendly as I had previously thought.

"Wait! We never got that letter," I insisted. "If you send it again, I promise you she'll have it back on time."

Panic was setting in. If they really did send for an examination, we were done for. They'd rip Angel and Gazzy away for sure. This obviously wasn't a fit environment for living. I wasn't even a legal adult yet! I could barely provide for all of us, let alone just myself.

Being stuffed into the system was worse than the current situation though. At least here they were with people that loved them. I shuddered to think about the abuse that they could encounter. I wouldn't stand for it. I promised that I would always keep them safe, and I intended to do so.

I took a deep breath, trying not to arouse suspicion. I didn't want Angel and Gazzy to worry, and I especially didn't want the agent on the phone to take note of my hysteria. _Just calm down Max. Everything will be okay_, I assured myself.

Denise sighed, and I heard the shuffle of papers on the other line. "I suppose we can do that. If we don't receive a reply by the end of next week though, an agent will be visiting to check everything out. Understand?"

"Thank you," I breathed, internally sighing in relief.

I hung up, dropping my head into my hands. I slid them down my face, sighing. It was a mixture of relief and frustration. I had ensured my siblings safety for just a little while longer.

"Who was that?" Gazzy called over his shoulder, peering up at me in concern.

"No one," I muttered, slamming the phone back onto the hook. I strode across the room, yanking the drawer full of old bills open with enough force to knock the lamp seated on top of the table clean off. I reached out reflexively and caught it with one hand. It balanced precariously there before settling into my palm. I placed it carefully back in its place, glad I didn't have yet another mess to pick up.

I resumed rifling around amongst the papers, peeling each one from the other slowly. I came to a patch of letters dated about a month ago, sticky and glued together with a blue substance. I felt like banging my head against the wall.

In the middle of the cluster was a small envelope with official looking print across its front. I slid my finger under the flap, ripping it open. Inside was a typed letter from the Social Services bureau. It was directed to my mom, asking questions about her current state of welfare.

I tucked it into my pocket, running a hand through my dirty blonde hair. This day couldn't get any worse.

"Is everything okay?" Gazzy asked insistently, his blue eyes wide. I realized maybe for the first time that he was growing up. He wasn't eight years old any more. He was verging on becoming a teenager very soon . . . _too soon_. He was going to want to know what was going on, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. I couldn't use the 'you're too young' excuse for much longer.

"We'll talk about it later," was what I eventually came up with as a reply.

He nodded, still eyeing me warily. I gave him a strained smile, but he seemed to see right through me. His frown deepened as he turned to address Angel in a quiet voice.

I sighed for the umpteenth time, my feet dragging as I made my way to the bathroom. I just stood and stared at my reflection in the mirror for what seemed like hours. My hair was dull and flat, and my deep brown eyes were life-less. Despite this my expression was fierce.

There was no room in my world for failure. I _had _to succeed.

**Authors Note: Tell me what you thought . . . in a review! (: I love them more than . . . Ah, crap! I can't think of a good comparison. *Failure*.. **


	3. Reclusive

**Authors Note: Thanks so much for the reviews so far. I do enjoy ever single one of them! On to the chapter, though . . .**

**Chapter Three:**

_**Reclusive**_

The next time I was able to meet up with Jared, he automatically honed in on the fact that something was wrong. I denied all accusations, keeping the information to myself. I continued to stay reclusive and evasive about the subject every time he brought it up . . . which was frequently.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he asked, starting in again.

"Yes!" I sighed in frustration. "Now will you please just _drop it_!"

"You know I can't do that. I'm worried about you, Max."

The tenderness of his words, and the care with which they were spoken stopped me in my tracks. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. When I finally turned to face him again, I found that we had drawn a small audience.

"We have company," I mumbled to him, nodding my head in the direction of the crowd.

The big, bulky guy I had noticed last time was standing to the right of the ring, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He had a small legion of cohorts with him, trying to look tough, but failing in the wake of their leader.

Jared narrowed his eyes at them pensively, but the man met his gaze head on.

"Who is that?" I demanded, seeing the flicker of recognition in Jared's eyes. "He was here last time."

Jared's eyebrows disappeared into his ruddy, red-ish brown hair. He rounded on me. "He was _here_!" he hissed, glowering slightly.

"Yeah . . ." I said slowly. "So what's the big deal?"

"The big deal! Max, that man . . . He's the reason I can't fight anymore. He's the one that snapped my leg like a twig, with absolutely no remorse what-so-ever," he snarled.

"Then what is he doing here!" My eyes had widened perceptively, and I was now gauging the burly man with new interest.

"I don't have any idea," Jared admitted . . . "But it looks like we're about to find out."

The man, seeing that we had obviously acknowledged his presence, was making his way forward. His entourage followed dutifully behind him, puffing out their chests and flexing their biceps. _What amateurs_.

"And so we meet again." His voice was deep and rumbling- a bass tone that had my teeth clenching.

"What a pleasure," Jared said snarkily, gritting his teeth. I saw his leg twitching, and I knew he was remembering the accident all over again.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" _He _inquired, looking me up and down appreciatively. A murmur ran through his friends, and they nodded along with him with repulsive respect. I ground my teeth together, refraining from barking out a sarcastic response.

Jared didn't say a word. He crossed his own arms, glancing back at me.

_He _grumbled, coming forward a few steps so that he stood just outside the ring. "Scott Kilner," he said, grinning wickedly. I barely suppressed a shudder.

"Max," I replied gruffly, giving him a distasteful look.

"Now tell me, what's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this? Jared should treat his girl better . . . If you were mine, you'd never have to set foot in a place that wasn't just as beautiful as you."

Jared had opened his mouth to respond, but I put a warning hand on his shoulder. He glared back at me like I was crazy, but I just shook my head the tiniest bit, letting him know I would take care of it.

I turned back to face Scott, giving him a seductive smile. Is cronies jostled each other, making rude gestures. It was taking all my impressive willpower not to bust them all up right then.

Scott, encouraged by my actions, came forward, leaping effortlessly into the ring. Upon closer inspection, he appeared to really be only around Jared's age. He approached me with a calm facade, grinning lazily. When he was stopped right in front of me I leaned forward, like I was going to whisper something in his ear. He complied like I figured he would.

When my lips were only a fraction of a centimeter away from his ear I acted swiftly. I kneed him in the groin, and he doubled over in surprise, not expecting my reaction. I brought my elbow down harshly on his shoulder blade, nicking the soft, vulnerable skin of his neck. He was still groaning when I latched onto his arm, twisting it around. He flipped over, crashing to his back.

He gasped for air, staring up at me. I positioned my foot over his windpipe, prepared to set it down.

"If you ever -_ever_- say something like that to me again, I will personally see to it that you're permanently unable to fight . . . just like you did to Jared. _Got it_?" I growled.

He nodded urgently, but I wasn't fooled. I saw his hand creeping towards my foot out of my peripheral vision the instant he raised it. With one lithe, swift motion I sent a kick to his jaw, watching his chin snap back painfully. He cursed, turning his head to spit out some blood. I rolled my eyes, stepping down on his ribs for effect.

He might have some bruising in the morning, but he wasn't seriously hurt. This, after all, was just a warning.

I stepped back, allowing him to get to his feet. He lunged at me, but I side-stepped quickly, watching in amusement as he swung his fist forwards drunkenly, passing me by. He ran headlong into the ropes, tipping over the edge. He got caught, entangled there for a moment, before he pitched over the side and disappeared. I heard the satisfactory thump as he hit the ground.

"Do any of you have something to say?" I questioned his friends, watching as they shook their heads in fright.

I grinned smugly as they hurried over to Scott, dragging his unconscious form out the door. I heard Jared chuckling to himself, and I turned as he gave me a congratulatory thump on the back.

"You're my hero," he said in awe.

"I know," I replied, nudging his shoulder.

"I don't even know how you do it," he admitted.

"Hard work . . . a lot of support . . . and a wicked awesome trainer."

He rolled his eyes. "Stop, stop! You're making me blush."

I glanced at the clock. It was nearly closing time, and Jared would need to be home with dinner ready when Sarah came home with Ian. He was weird that way, I guess. It was a phobia of his. God forbid his wife have to cook, not that I was complaining. There were too many prejudiced jerks out there. I was glad that Jared saw straight through that crap.

He saw me looking, and with a reluctant sigh he said, "I should probably get going."

"Yeah, probably," I replied with a smile.

I suppose in getting him to leave I was hiding an ulterior motive. The truth was, my job hunt was leaving me empty-handed, when what I needed was them filled with cash. It hadn't occurred to me until just last night that the perfect opportunity was waiting right where I spent most of my time.

"See you tomorrow night, kiddo. Be sure to get some sleep. This is an important fight. A lot of money is up for grabs," Jared warned, knowing that the promise of money would ensure my being well rested and ready to kick butt.

"Aye, Aye Captain," I replied with a mock salute.

Once he was gone I examined the gym. The entire place was deserted, absolutely no sound breaching the silence other than the low hum of the wheezy air conditioning unit that choked out an unsteady flow of mildly _warm _air. The old equipment looked even more rusted and decaying in this aspect than it did any other. The place was seriously falling to ruins. That would, of course, explain the lack of customers.

Towards the back the lights shut down suddenly, flickering into blackness with a minimal amount of sparking. It was the owners warning to get out, or else you'd be stuck there all night, in the pitch black. I knew my chance to speak with him with no one else around to bother us was slimming. It was now or never.

I gathered my things quickly, slipping out onto the regular gym floor. The boxing ring seemed barren and desolate without my presence. It was cast in a sallow, yellowing light that made everything around it look sick and unhealthy.

More lights flickered off as I made my way towards the main office, which was a lot farther from the doors than I would have liked. If I was approved, however, I would be seeing this place even more at this time of night.

Even so, the now dim lights were creating shadows in places there previously weren't. Punching bags came to life, and weight benches looked more and more like the monsters out of nightmares.

I couldn't help but pick up my pace a little, glancing warily around as I went. By the time I reached the office door there was only one set of lights remaining, the closest to the main entrance. Everything else was drawn into a closeted darkness.

I took one more deep breath before knocking purposefully on the dirt covered, smudged glass. A muffled response reached my ears, but I couldn't tell what the words were, so I pushed the door open anyway. It creaked loudly as I did so, stirring dust.

The owner was seated at a wide desk, papers strewn along its surface. At the moment his chair was tipped back, his feet propped onto the desk. His large, meaty hands were cradling the back of his head as he lounged back, eyeing me curiously.

"Um . . . hi," I muttered, suddenly unsure of my actions. What if this was just another failure?

He didn't say a word or move a muscle, he just continued to glare at me with his dark, beady eyes.

"I was just wondering, Mr . . . " I trailed off. What a great way to start a job interview. I didn't even know the mans name!

"Leroy," he said in a low, guttural tone. It matched his appearance well. "Call me Leroy."

"Oh, okay," I mumbled, looking down at my feet. His unrelenting stare was really starting to unnerve me. "I was just wondering if, by any chance, you might need some . . . help around here?"

He didn't reply for a few moments, and when he did he asked; "You mean a job?"

"Uh, yeah," I muttered, laughing shakily.

"There aren't any openings." His words were harsh, and I internally cringed.

"_Please_." If I had to resort to begging, I would. It would damage my pride significantly, but I would do anything for my family. "I really need the money."

"There is no job offer."

"I know, but I can help out around here. I could take care of the gym equipment, and clean this place up a bit. It would help bring in more customers, which means more of a profit for you," I rushed on to explain all the benefits of my working there. I _would _convince him to hire me. When I really set my mind to something, _nobody _could stand in my way.

He was quiet again, and I finally looked up long enough to see him studying me with interest. His grim expression had been replaced by a more speculative one, and he seemed to be mulling something over in his head. I wiped my expression clean. I couldn't let him see the hope I could feel bubbling up inside. I had to stay calm. This could be my selling point.

"When would you be available?" he inquired, sitting up properly, with his hands folded in front of him.

"I have school on week days, but then I'm here most nights. I could stay for a few hours after closing time . . . and on weekends I'm free, for the most part . . . I have certain obligations I need to pertain to every once and awhile, but I could be here almost every day," I explained, trying not to give my _other _occupation away, assuming that he wasn't already aware of who I was.

"That won't be necessary. Two or three times a week should be quite enough."

"So am I hired?" I asked, biting my lip in earnest.

"I won't be able to pay you much," he said reproachfully, but I was absolutely certain that I could make this work.

"As long as it's something," I insisted.

"Well then yes, you're hired. Be here Monday night after closing time. You have a lot of work to catch up on."

This seemed to be my dismissal, so with an enthusiastic thanks I made my way to the door. I could have sworn I saw him smile just the tiniest bit, but I shook my head slightly and continued on. I was halfway out the door when he called after me.

"Oh, and Maximum?"

I froze with my hand still on the door handle. He had used the name my fans had come up for me . . . the one I used during fights. I swallowed thickly, thoughts running like crazy through my mind.

"Don't be bringing your troubles into my gym, you hear?"

I nodded, though I'm sure he couldn't see me, before rushing off into the night.

**Authors Note: Tell me what you think in a review! I'll love you forever! (in the most non-creepy way possible) **


	4. Variables

**Authors Note: I'm sort of on a writing high at the moment, even though I really need to go to bed . . . Oh well.**

**Chapter Four:**

_**Variables**_

It was only seven, but my mind was already reeling. I had forgotten all about the birthday party Gazzy had been waiting to go to for weeks up until just now, as he stood before me, his eyes pleading.

"But Max, you promised I could go." His tone was anguished, and his lower lip was quivering.

"I'm sorry Gaz. I totally forgot all about it. This fight is more important though." Angel and Gazzy were well aware of how I got our money. I was a bad role model, that was for sure, but I was all they had.

"_Max_," he pleaded.

I glanced at the clock unwillingly, noting that I only had an hour to get to the fight. This problem needed resolved immediately, or else I was going to be late. I somehow needed to convince Gazzy that he _had _to stay home and babysit Angel. I was lucky that he was old enough to stay home by himself at all, and granted, I leaned a lot more on him because of this fact, but right now I needed his services.

"Gazzy . . ." I said slowly, putting my hand on his shoulder.

"Can't you find another babysitter!" he demanded, ducking out of my reach. His eyes were beginning to blaze furiously.

"No one's going to be available at such short notice . . . and besides, we don't have the money to pay someone to watch after Angel and Mom. I don't want some total stranger barging into our home, learning all our secrets! Do you?" I inquired, albeit a bit more harshly than necessary.

He sniffled miserably. "No."

There was a knock at the door, and I turned to glare at Gazzy. His face seemed to brighten despite my hostile stare, and I knew this was his doing. "Who is that?"

"It's Danny's mom," he admitted, grinning through his sorrow.

"And why is Danny's mom here?" I asked through gritted teeth, already knowing the answer.

"To pick me up for the party."

"Dang it Gazzy! Leave it to you to find a friggin' loophole!" I shouted, fuming. He cowered slightly, but he knew he had won. "Hurry up and get your things. It's rude to make someone wait."

He whooped in joy, slinging his backpack across his shoulders. He hugged me around the waist tightly, and I couldn't help but smile slightly. He spiked his hair up a little, before dashing out the door with another wave. I greeted Danny's mom shortly, who informed me that she'd drop Gazzy off the next morning at around nine.

Once they were gone Angel suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway, her gaze knowing.

"I can watch Mama," she volunteered, her eyes wide and shining.

"That'd be a big help, Ange . . . but I'm afraid you're just not old enough yet," I explained, ruffling her hair as she frowned up at me sadly.

"But you have to leave now, and I'll be left alone here anyway."

"I'm not going to be able to go tonight," I informed her.

Her brow furrowed, and she thought for a minute before saying; "But Jared will be mad."

I sighed, nodding.

"Can Nudge come over?" Angel asked, beaming.

I gasped, smiling widely. Why hadn't I thought of that? Nudge lived just across the street, and she was only a few years younger than me. At fourteen, she was more than capable of watching Angel and making sure Mom didn't do anything stupid. She was a close friend to the family, meaning she knew more than enough about the state of things.

"I'll be right back!" I announced, hurrying to fling the door open. "Don't move."

I rushed out into the dingy corridor, wrinkling my nose at how awful this place really was. It wasn't just our apartment that was relatively disgusting. Most of the people around here were crack heads just like my mother, and they didn't exactly clean up after themselves well.

I practically flew down the steps, ignoring the elevator that had been out of commission since the day it was installed, or so I imagined. I got a few strange looks from some of the more normal tenants, but I just continued on my way, only stopping to shove through the door.

I skidded across the empty street, the lamps above casting flickering puddles of light across the sidewalk. I bounded up the steps to Nudge's apartment building, ringing the buzzer for her room insistently.

"_Who is it_?" I sing-songy voice crackled from the speaker.

"It's me, Max," I said hurriedly, applying more force than necessary on the innocent button.

"_Oh, hi Max! Come right on up_," she replied happily.

"Actually, you need to come down. Gazzy has a birthday party, and I really, really, _really _need you to watch Angel and . . . well, you know who," I said uncomfortably, "for a few hours. There's someplace I need to be, _pronto_."

Through the speaker I heard her sigh before saying, "_I'll be there lickity-split_."

"Please hurry!"

"_Alright, alright, I'm getting my jacket now! Don't be so pushy_," she mumbled crossly, and I rolled my eyes.

I hopped up and down in place, waiting anxiously for her to appear. It seemed to take forever before she finally pushed through the door, her wild mane of curls tamed into a lopsided ponytail. Her cherry red coat was askew, but she was smiling brightly at me all the same.

"You're a life saver!" I exclaimed, hugging her tightly.

She laughed patting my back. Her brown eyes were shining in excitement when I finally pulled away.

"Don't worry about it. You know I love watching Angel," she replied enthusiastically. "Now you better hurry along. I know Jared, and I've witnessed his temper. You better not be late."

"Thanks again!" I shouted as I took off down the street, running full tilt. I would be lucky if I got there with a second to spare . . . and Nudge was right, Jared would be absolutely livid.

I tore through the dark alleys, cutting across people's yards to get there faster. When the low, abandoned building finally came into view, I was panting from my effort, rivulets of sweat dripping down my back.

I saw a pacing figure out front, and I slowed to meet him.

"_Max_!" Jared shouted in relief, and then his thankful stare morphed into a morbid glare, his eyes narrowing. "Where in the _hell _have you been!"

"Gazzy . . . birthday party . . . had to . . . convince . . ." I wheezed, putting my hands on my knees to calm my erratic breathing. I swallowed over and over again, trying to get some air into my burning lungs.

"No time to explain! You need to get in there," Jared decided, pushing me forwards.

I complied to his shoving, guzzling down the water he handed to me wordlessly. Once I was more hydrated I started to feel much better. That, and I could now hear the roaring crowd as we entered the building. Their shouts energized me, electrifying my entire body. Their cheers and cries of outrage mingled, becoming one huge roar.

I shook my arms and legs out, bouncing in place. Jared shoved me down hard on a chair that was suddenly at my back. I stared up at him, noting the perspiration beading on his forehead already. I think I must have worried him more than he let on. He usually masked those kinds of emotions with anger during a fight, not wanting to soften me up or something stupid like that.

"Are you ready?" he asked tersely, his whole body tense.

I nodded, breathing in deeply the stench of beer and sweat mixed together, along with a tinge of rusted blood. This was how the joints we fought in always smelled. It was it's own kind of history.

"Now remember," Jared said emphatically. "Keegan Delouise is big on offense, but wretched at defense. You have to get in fast and take him down. None of your little taunting crap. It's not going to work. Making him mad will only strengthen his determination, _understand_?"

I rolled my eyes, nodding once again.

"I'm serious, Max. Just do what I say for once."

"Why are you so worried, big guy?" I asked, coming to my feet. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, which was wound tightly with white strips. Jared must have put them on when I wasn't paying attention.

I laughed, thumping him on the back. "I don't lose, remember?"

"You will with that attitude," he grumbled, but I just shook my head, stepping out into the open with a grin.

The crowd went insane, bumping and jostling each other to get a better look. Beer sloshed onto the ground and the stray bottles they had tossed aside at some point were crunched under foot. For some reason everyone thought it was more enjoyable to watch wasted.

I faced my opponent off as he stood opposite me, grinning like an idiot. He cracked his knuckles, flexing his muscles as he did so. I think I was supposed to be intimidated, but all I felt like doing was yawning. I adopted a bored expression, stepping forwards.

A man joined the two of us in the middle, a wad of cash in his hands. I eyed it hungrily, my iris' glinting dementedly. Keegan gave me a strange look, and he couldn't mask the fear he was feeling deep down.

"Alright, here's your winnings. Remember the few rules, namely don't kill each other. Got it?" The man asked, raising his voice to be heard about the crowd.

I nodded grimly, filled with determination. Time seemed to slow when I turned my back, strutting back to my corner. My eyes picked up every last detail of the ring, my nostrils flaring. Sounds were infiltrating my mind with more clarity than they previously were.

I was ready to win.

My eyes narrowed, and I only had sights for Keegan. I would do as Jared said. I wanted this over and done with as soon as possible, too. Though it wasn't necessarily my signature style, I would comply without a complaint. I was distracted by thoughts of Gazzy's safety, and Angel's as well. I knew Nudge would take care of her, but what if something happened with Mom, and I wasn't there to calm her down?

I shook my head, ridding myself of these un-vital thoughts. I needed to _focus_.

My glare was unwavering as I took my place, settling into a comfortable fighting stance. Keegan and I squared off, his shoulders tensed and quivering with barely suppressed rage. His heavy muscles twitched uncontrollably, and his hands curled and uncurled as if he was imagining my neck beneath them.

When the toll-like bell rang, he launched himself at me with a yowl of fury, as if he had his own personal vendetta against me. He wasn't very fast though, and I easily side-stepped out of his reach. I brought my leg around, using the momentum of my movement to whirl swiftly. I heard a crack as my foot connected with his spine, and he stumbled, falling to his knees.

I advanced forwards, getting him into a headlock. He struggled against me, and I immediately knew the move was foolhardy. He was ten times stronger than I was. Before I could jump away, he had flipped me cleanly over his shoulder. I landed with a sickening thud against the cold, unforgiving pavement. Pain wracked my entire body, but I forced myself to focus, clenching my teeth through the agony.

"Had enough, little girl?" Keegan hissed darkly, pinning me down with his trunk-like arms.

I wriggled uselessly beneath him, struggling for some purchase. Finally, one of my punches landed home, and his face jerked as my fist connected with his jaw. I elbowed him in the abdomen, driving my arm further into his stomach. When he was groaning from the effort, I slid easily from beneath him, hopping effortlessly to my feet. I was wheezing slightly from where his knee had struck my ribs, but otherwise I was in better shape than him.

He thundered to his feet before I could make a move as well, growling. I feigned a punch to the right, following up with a roundhouse kick to his gut. His own fist hurtled towards my face, cracking against my jaw painfully. I winced, biting my lip.

_Pain is just a message_, I reminded myself, repeating the words in my head like a mantra. _Pain is just a message_.

He bent his head, his shoulders hunching over. I recognized the position, and set my feet resolutely. He wasn't going to pummel me over before I got _one more punch in_.

The next minute played out in slow motion. First, Keegan took a step forwards, a guttural snarl erupting from him. I still stayed in the same position, knowing I had to play this out _just right_. When he was almost upon me I swung with expert precision, my knuckles nicking his temple. He swerved just as I had anticipated, gripping his head. I took the opportunity and sent an uppercut into his chin. His jaw snapped back, and he fell to the ground, his head lulling to the sides.

He was completely unconscious.

The audience roared appreciatively, and I ignored the rude, snide comments from some of the drunker men. The same man as before stepped out, grasping my hand in his. He threw it up, showing me off to the crowd.

"And we have a winner!" he announced, his voice thundering over the crowd. "Maximum continues her undefeated reign!"

He pressed the wad of cash into my hands, my golden prize for the night. I clutched it tightly to me, not intending to let it go until I was safely at home. I gave a few more smiles to everyone before rushing off to Jared, who hugged me in congratulations. I mumbled something about getting home, and he offered to drive me. I nodded numbly, following him out.

Tonight, my victory meant nothing. I was usually happy about winning, but at the moment, I was just tired of being a variable in someone else's game.

**Authors Note: Go ahead and tell me how much that fight scene sucked. I don't know anything about that kind of stuff, so it's alright to rant about how epically I failed . . . But you at least have to review! Please?**


	5. Deranged

**Authors Note: Sorry if I confused anyone last chapter. Max isn't going up against Fang for quite some time. There will be fights in the coming chapters before their time comes up. Thanks for the reviews! (:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride. There, I said it . . . *Sigh***

**Chapter Five:**

_**Deranged**_

Sweat dripped down the side of my face, and I swatted at it with the back of my hand in annoyance. Little droplets kept running into my eyes, and it stung. That along with the heavy antiseptic smell in the air, and the noxious fumes rolling off the now clean gym equipment made for an utterly agonizing work space.

It didn't help that Leroy was constantly breathing down my neck, grunting in response to everything I said. If my job here wasn't so shaky and precarious, I might have snapped by now, but seeing as I really needed the money, I kept my mouth shut.

At least he wasn't as persnickety as most bosses would have been. He didn't complain about my work, and he didn't point out spots I had missed. In fact, he was unusually quiet. He kind of faded into the background a bit, never saying a word.

Warily, I glanced at the clock, noting that it was getting pretty late. I wanted to be home to say goodnight to Angel and Gazzy. I hadn't ever not been . . . They usually stayed up during fight nights, waiting to see how I fared, even though I ordered them to be in bed hours before what those times usually were.

Slowly I pushed myself to my feet, wincing as my back cracked. I rubbed the tender spot at the base of my spine. I had been in that kneeled over, crouched position for far too long. My knees were sore, and my neck hurt from the constant strain.

Who knew cleaning was that hard?

Methodically I gathered my things, stowing them away in the crate Leroy had provided upon my entering for my first day on the job. It had only been about three hours, but I was already seeing that this job was going to be more grueling than I had anticipated.

"Had enough for one day?" Leroy asked gruffly, appearing in the shadows.

"It's getting late. My brother and sister are probably getting worried," I replied, lying.

"You don't need to come in tomorrow," was all he said, before turning his back to me. He wound his way through the maze of equipment, never once looking back.

After a moment I finally regained my senses and called out to him; "When should I stay then?"

"In a few days. It doesn't really matter," he said offhandedly.

I nodded mutely, resting the box of cleaning supplies on my hip. I shoved it blindly into the closest closet I could find, which was filled with an odd assortment of items. I shut the door, and it made a louder sound than I expected. I suppose that in this quiet, anything would.

I picked up my bag on the way out, slinging it haphazardly across one shoulder. My hand was resting on the doorknob when I heard Leroy shout from his office. I turned expectantly, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm not going to stick around every night waiting for you to get done, you hear? There's a control panel in my office, right beside the window. From now on, when you're finished, flip all the lights off. You can leave through the office entrance. It opens up into an alley that leads right to the street. Don't forget to lock up both entrances when you leave," he explained.

I refrained from gasping, realizing that that was quite possibly the longest thing I had ever heard him say. He seemed to sense my thoughts, because his eyes narrowed and he muttered a good-bye before disappearing into his office once more. He didn't even wait for me to reply. He and I both knew I didn't have much of a choice. Not if I wanted to keep this job, that is . . . which I did. _Very badly_.

When I finally managed to shake my stunned daze off I turned once more, slipping through the door. When I was only a few paces away from the gym I slipped the hood of my jacket up over my head, shielding myself from any prying eyes. I continued on lethargically, my mind blissfully blank. For the most part, my head was plagued with thoughts of my mother and street fighting, with possible threats from Social Services mixed in. Tonight though, I couldn't seem to focus on any of that.

As the sun began its descent, slowly dipping beyond the horizon, the temperature dropped along with it. I tugged my jacket closer, fighting off the chill. Dusk continued to allow its inky blackness to settle across the earth, masking it in the night. The streetlamps flickered on with a low hum as the sky morphed into a dark blue pallet.

Because of these observations, I didn't realize I was being followed until it was too late. The hairs on the back of my neck were prickling resolutely, and my skin tingled. I listened intently, picking up the soft thump of feet hitting the pavement. From what I could discern from hearing only, there was more than one person stalking along behind me.

I held my breath, praying that I could make it to the coming corner. If, by some miracle, I managed to turn it before they did, I would be safe. I recognized the street, and I knew that if I was able to slip into the alley quickly, I could hop the fence in record time and sprint away before my _friends _had a chance to catch me. My plan was fool proof, but it was all riding on the hope that I made it to the corner.

I plodded along as normal, making sure nothing in my stature changed. I took extra caution in relaxing my shoulders, ridding myself of all tension. My stride stayed languid, and I took deep, even breaths. I shoved my hands in my pockets to conceal my twitching fingers.

I was gaining in proximity to the corner, and it was becoming a struggle to keep my pulse under control. The space slipped away, and thirty feet became twenty as the pavement disappeared beneath my feet. I thought then, that victory was mine.

I was wrong.

Two men rounded the corner, their expressions easy and carefree. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be mere boys, probably around my age. I continued along at the same pace, while wishing fervently that they would just leave me alone as I passed.

"Hey," one called out, grinning. I ignored him, clenching my teeth at the way he was looking me up and down. He misinterpreted my silence though, because he said arrogantly; "Yeah, I'm talking to you baby."

There was a loud chorus of 'Ooh-s' from the group behind me. I peeked reflexively over my shoulder, cursing my actions as I did so. There were three more boys standing in a loose line. I froze immediately, my breath catching in my throat. My eyes stayed glued to the guy in the middle, who was glaring murderously over my head.

"Don't talk to my girl like that," he spat, his eyes staying narrowed.

"I'm not your girl," I insisted, the words sounding strangled as they twisted in my throat.

"It's okay, babe, I'll take care of this," he said tauntingly, smirking down at me.

"Don't call me babe!" I hissed, fury replacing my panic.

His cronies cackled as they closed in on me. I tried not to look frantic as the realization of my being trapped dawned. I was being guarded from every side by a sneering member of his gang.

"What do you want Dylan?" I demanded crossly, turning my burning glare back on him. He didn't flinch in the slightest. In fact, he continued to grin cockily at me, his teeth flashing in the fading light.

"Oh come on Maxie, don't be like that," he teased as his turquoise colored eyes sparkled.

"It may come as a shock to you, but I actually have somewhere I need to be, so if you'll excuse me . . ." I muttered sarcastically, turning my back on him. I knew it would only enrage him further, but I had always liked ticking him off, after all. I took a step forward, but his henchman closed in, barring my way.

"You're not going anywhere tonight Max. Not unless it's with me," he stated, and his tone had taken on a different quality. It was more rugged . . . and hungry. I felt a slight twinge of fear before I shook it off easily.

"And that's where you're wrong," I replied smoothly.

"I-" Dylan began heatedly, but I wasn't planning on allowing him to finish.

I sprung into action before he could get another word out. My fist snapped forwards quickly, crushing into someones jaw. I followed it up with a roundhouse kick to his chest. I heard an 'oof' and he dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap, all before anyone else could make a move to stop me. I took the other down, the one who had spoken to me before, much the same way; with slightly more blood.

I vaulted over their bodies, prepared to dash into the night. I had only taken a few steps though, before someone latched onto the handle of my backpack. I was tugged roughly backwards, and I almost lost my footing in the process. Seeing an advantage in this, I dropped like a dead weight, kicking my leg out as I crouched. My foot connected with my captors shin, and I shot straight up, punching my fist into his stomach. He doubled over in pain, and I sent one well executed kick to his temple, putting him out of his misery.

Dylan made a grab for me, and I danced easily out of his reach. He lunged at me again, managing to land a punch on my nose. I cursed profusely as I felt it crack. Blood gushed from my wound, only infuriating me more. We exchanged blows for some time after that, locked in a deadly combat. I almost realized a second too late that there was still one more of his gang members I needed to keep an eye out for.

Through my peripheral vision I saw a blurred figure creeping towards my back. I kicked out blindly, almost whooping in delight as Dylan grunted, keeling over. He growled through the pain, but I averted my attention elsewhere for a few moments.

My elbow shot back, colliding with the soft skin of the boys stomach. My fingers scrabbled across his arm as I gained purchase, my nails biting into his skin. I used all my strength to flip him over my shoulder, where he landed on the ground in front of me with a sickening 'thunk'. He moaned, curling into himself.

My breathing was ragged as I surveyed the damage quickly. Two of the guys were unconscious, their heads lulling as they laid, sprawled across the pavement. The other two were groaning in pain, but stayed motionless. Dylan was the only one left standing. He glared with pure hatred, still bent over slightly. He choked down a complaint as he straightened up. I automatically took a step back, even though I knew there wasn't a chance of him beating me. He was worn thin already.

"Had enough?" I snarled.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head sadly. "I love how you think you've won."

"I have," I said darkly. "You can barely stand right now."

"You don't have to stand straight to shoot a gun," he whispered dramatically, pulling something out of his pocket.

I froze, whether it was in shock or fear I had no idea. All my focus was locked on the weapon Dylan was gripping in his palm. He tapped his finger on the trigger teasingly, before pointing it right at his target . . .

_Me_.

My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes widened in horror. Time seemed to slow down as his finger inched closer and closer to the trigger. It wasn't quite setting in yet, that my life was going to end at the hands of this douche face.

"Any last words?" he inquired with a sardonic laugh.

I pressed my mouth shut tightly, staring him straight in the eye. I raised my chin defiantly, setting my shoulders. If I was going to die, than I would do it with some dignity.

"Bye, bye Max Ride," he murmured, a deranged glint in what I once thought were beautiful eyes.

His finger slipped over the trigger, and I saw his muscles tense as he pressed down. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut tight and hope it was over quick. This wasn't the peaceful death I had imagined. Still, I glared at him fiercely. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me vulnerable.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a sharp blur of black. It collided with Dylan just as he pulled the trigger. The bullet shot haphazardly into the air just to the left of me. I ducked, rolling behind a trash can. I peered over the top in time to see a dark figure wrestle the gun from Dylan's hands. The stranger punched him once . . . twice in the head. I witnessed Dylan's eyes roll back, and he lay limp on the cold concrete. There was blood spilling from a large gash on his cheek, dripping down onto the ground in a steady trickle.

The stranger turned slowly, the gun in his hand. I realized then that I could be next. After nearly escaping death, I could be faced with it once more. I tensed up as his probing gaze met mine, his flinty glare settling down on me . . .

**Authors Note: *Gasp!* Who could it be? I guess you'll just have to review to get the next chapter to find out (:**


	6. Obsidian

**Authors Note: Thanks for the reviews last chapter! There were a lot more than I expected, so keep it up! (:**

**Chapter Six:**

_**Obsidian**_

His eyes were the color of obsidian as they penetrated mine with a strange intensity. I couldn't quite discern the emotion in them. They seemed cold and warm all at the same time. It was perplexing.

We just stared blankly at each other for a few minutes after that, until he finally broke the silence with something I hadn't expected at all.

"Are you alright?"

I looked dumbly back at him, my mind numbly trying to process his words. He waited patiently for my answer, not making a move. At some point, my senses caught up with me and the breath I had unknowingly been holding rushed out. I took another gulp of air, squeezing my eyes shut tight. I rocked back on my heels, rubbing my temples as my thought process shifted into gear.

"Are you alright?" he repeated, his voice low and soft.

"Um . . . yeah, I'm fine," I managed to mutter.

He took a step towards me and I shrunk back, wanting to kick myself for appearing so weak. The gun he was clutching though, was seriously freaking me out. He seemed to sense where my gaze was directed because he dropped the weapon to the ground with a clatter that seemed to pierce the night.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

I nodded, coming to my feet. My head started spinning drastically, and I pitched to the side. He rushed forwards in two long strides, catching me before I fell. I closed my eyes, waiting for the dizziness to subside. Once my mind had cleared I pushed myself away from him, standing on my own.

I ignored him for the moment, assessing the damage now that I had a few seconds to spare. My leg was already bruising from where someone had kicked me, and one of my ribs was probably cracked. My nose had dried up for the most part, and I probed along the bridge tenderly, feeling for a break. I sighed in relief when I found none. At least my injuries weren't very serious. Dylan and his little gang hadn't fared so well.

"Are you sure you're alright?" the guy demanded again, and I glanced up to see him studying me intently. A strand of his black hair was falling into his eyes, and he shook it away in annoyance.

"I'm okay," I assured him.

I was perfectly fine physically. It was the whole near-death experience that had me shaken up. All I could see was Dylan holding that gun. The look on his face had shown the monster he really was. I had figured that out long ago, but not before I was too caught up in his web of lies to escape completely, as shown by tonight.

"You look horrible," he stated bluntly, with no emotion on his face.

"Gee, thanks," I muttered sarcastically.

His expression softened slightly and he said, "My friends apartment is right over there. We can go get you cleaned up."

I stiffened. No way was I going anywhere with this guy. Sure, he had kind of saved my life and all, but that didn't mean I trusted him. He was a total stranger, despite what his actions displayed.

"Don't worry, no one will be there," he said, misinterpreting my silence. That seemed to be happening a lot lately.

"Thanks, but no thanks," I muttered, slinging my bag over my shoulder. It must have fallen off at some point in time.

"Please," he insisted. "I need to know that you're okay."

I turned to stare at him. His behavior was becoming increasingly peculiar. He didn't even know me, yet he was acting like he . . . cared. Maybe I was so defensive and wary of that, because I wasn't used to people feeling that way about me . . . but all my instincts were telling me to get out of the situation as soon as possible. There was another feeling though, itching its way to the surface, and it was a strange trust in the dark boy before me.

"Fine," I succumbed, motioning for him to lead the way.

"I'm Fang, by the way," he muttered as we crossed the street. At this time of night, the block was deserted.

"Max," I said simply.

We lapsed into silence then. He didn't seem to have anything else to say, and I was beginning to feel the after-shocks from what had occurred. The truth slowly set in. If this guy, _Fang_, hadn't come along . . . I would be dead. I didn't have a doubt that Dylan was crazy enough to do it. He was inhumane; maniacal.

By this point we had reached the steps to a bleak, average looking building. Fang mounted them quickly, and I followed along at a much slower pace. My mind was sluggish as my many thoughts tried to process all at once. It was all a jumbled mess.

He glanced back once, to make sure I was still behind him, then pushed the doors open. He held it for me, and I smiled in thanks. His brow furrowed, due to the likely grimace in my expression. He led me up another flight of stairs then, until we reached our destination. He rummaged around in the pocket of his jacket, producing a small, glinting key after a few seconds.

The apartment seemed clean enough. The walls were bare and white, and the carpet was spotless. The furniture, though a bit worn, was in good shape as well. It was almost the polar opposite of my own home.

"Sit," Fang ordered, pointing to the couch.

I nodded mutely, sinking down on the sofa. The leather was soft, and it molded to my shape. I knew I shouldn't get too comfortable, but my rib was really starting to throb, and I discovered a burning cut on my cheek that I hadn't noticed before. I was worn out enough from training with Jared, and that combined with working and the fight with Dylan and his gang, totaled for one tired Max. My eyelids were growing heavy as proof of that.

My head had just lulled to the side, my eyes slipping completely closed, when Fang entered the room again, appearing from a small side hallway. I sat up, instantly taking examination of my surroundings. The room was the same as before though. Nothing had changed.

"You alright?" Fang asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah . . . I'm just . . . tired is all," I mumbled, looking anywhere but at him. His piercing gaze did something to me. It was like he could see straight to my soul . . . and I didn't like it. He made me feel vulnerable with just one look from those dark, midnight pools.

He didn't say anything more on the subject, much to my relief. Instead he knelt down in front of me, his hand securing my chin in his grasp. He examined my nose petulantly, but I caught him sneaking glances up at me through his long eyelashes every few seconds.

"It's not broken," he finally determined, handing me a wet washcloth. I swiped away all the dried blood self consciously. How could I not be embarrassed with him watching me like that?

"I could have told you that," I replied, tossing the rag to the side.

He rolled his eyes, but said no more. His face was determined as he probed along my cut. I winced as he put too much pressure on it, and he flashed me a searching look before returning to the business of cleaning the wound. He tried to put a bandage on it, but I grabbed his hand, trying to ignore the sparks flying up my arm. He gave me a questioning look, and I said; "Don't."

"It'll get infected," he insisted.

I shrugged. "So?"

"Max," he said reproachfully, but I barred his way, tilting my cheek away so he couldn't get to it. After a moment he sighed, letting his arm fall back to his side. He muttered something about me being too stubborn, and I couldn't help but smirk.

"Is that all?" he inquired, his dark gaze searching mine.

"Yeah," I lied, ignoring the twinge in my ribs. I didn't like being taken care of. It made me feel weak, which is one thing I wasn't.

Fang nodded, gathering his things. His stare lingered on me for a second more, like he was gouging my physical appearance for himself. I didn't move a muscle, and he finally turned away. He appeared a few seconds later, his hands empty. He leaned against the wall, his arms across his chest, just watching me. I returned his stare, noting not for the first time the deep obsidian of his eyes. The brilliancy of them wasn't masked by his black clothing. Everything about him was dark and closed off. His skin was even a tanned, olive tone.

He shifted his head, letting his long hair fan out in front of his face. My scrutiny seemed to unnerve him just as much as his bothered me.

"It's getting kind of late," I remarked. The sky outside was pitch black as I looked through the window.

"What exactly is your deal with Dylan?"

His comment caught me off guard, and I immediately tensed up. The mention of the cretins name repulsed me to no end. "What do you mean?"

"You're telling me he held you at gunpoint for no reason?" One dark eyebrow raised, a small smirk riddled across his lips.

"_Dylan_," I spat, "and I have a history, I guess."

"What kind of history?" He sounded extremely uninterested, but his eyes were boring into mine intensely.

"He's my . . . ex-boyfriend," I admitted, frowning to myself.

"Not a happy relationship?" Fang guessed.

"It was, at first. Until I realized he was a megalomaniac. He didn't like that I ended things. I don't know why he's coming after me now . . . It's been about two years since we broke up," I explained, as the memories from before came crashing down like a tidal wave.

"Dylan's unstable," Fang supplied, summing up all I was thinking.

I nodded agreeably, and then; "Wait a minute! How do you know Dylan?" I demanded, my curiosity sparking.

Fang shifted uncomfortably, glaring down at the floor with malice. It took him a minute to reply.

"We have . . . history too, I guess," he said vaguely, shrugging as if it wasn't a big deal. His hands were curled into fists across his chest though, and his shoulders were rigid.

"What kind of history?" I asked, repeating his own words.

"Nothing that concerns you," he said scathingly, and I shrunk back slightly at the menace in his tone. He seemed to catch the movement out of the corner of his eye, because he finally looked at me, and his expression softened. "Sorry," he apologized. "I don't like talking about it."

"It doesn't matter." _Yes it does_. "I should go anyway."

"You can stay here tonight," Fang hurried to say, finally pushing himself off the wall.

"I can't. My brother and sister are probably worried enough as it is. I need to go home," I insisted, coming to my feet. I managed to suffer through the pain in my ribs, biting my lip to hold back a groan.

"At least let me drive you." Maybe my hearing was out of whack, but he seemed kind of . . . disappointed.

"That's okay. My house is only a few blocks away."

"Max," he said. "You're not in any shape to be walking home alone. Not at this time of night."

"I do it all the time." I picked my bag up off the floor, tossing it over my shoulder. It bumped against my side, and I hissed under my breath. Fang's eyes narrowed, and I knew I had been caught.

"Just let me get my keys. I'll be back in two seconds."

I sighed. "Fine."

Once he had disappeared down the hallway again I wrenched the door open, not having ever entertained the idea that he would drive me home. I sprinted down the corridor, taking the steps two at a time. It wouldn't take him that long to realize I had fled. By that time, however, I planned on being very far away.

I wasn't sure what spurred me to leave in such a manner. I didn't take charity . . . and this seemed like the most likely case for him treating me so well, though. I didn't know him, no matter how alluring he may be. I had learned long ago that trust should be given out sparingly, and though he had saved my life, he could also end it just as easily. I wasn't going to take any chances. I had seen the way he took Dylan out, with efficient ease. Fang was ultimately dangerous, even to someone as good of a fighter as me.

As I pounded down the streets, cutting through an alley so there was no way he could find me, I couldn't seem to clear my mind. It was filled with only one thing, clouding everything else . . .

It seemed that no matter where I went, I couldn't escape those obsidian eyes.

**Authors Note: So, no major cliffhanger to end this one. Let's try to get around the same amount of reviews though. It would make me very happy.**


	7. Faults

**Authors Note: So, not the same amount of reviews as last time, but since there wasn't really a cliffhanger, I didn't expect as much. Just keep 'em coming! (:**

**Chapter Seven:**

_**Faults**_

My abdomen looked mummified, wrapped up in gauze and medical tape. I winced as Jared tugged on the edge of the cloth too hard, pulling it against my broken rib. He lightened up a bit, but by the look on his face, I could tell he was still pissed.

"I said I was sorry," I repeated, slipping my shirt back over my stomach once he stepped back.

He ignored me, turning his back. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. It wasn't like Jared to stay this mad, especially considering I was so hurt. It wouldn't take that long for me to heal though. I always got better really fast.

"You should have come to me," he said quietly, almost to the point where I had to strain to hear him.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"This wound isn't fresh. It happened a few days ago. If I had to take a guess, probably when you were walking home after our training session. But do I get a call?" he demanded. "No."

"It's not that big of a deal," I insisted. "I just didn't want to bother you."

"Not that big of a deal! Max, your rib needs medical attention, and you're lucky that cut on your face didn't start festering! Ever heard of a bandage?" My thoughts immediately turned to Fang.

"I'll be fine," I replied gruffly, folding my arms in front of my chest defiantly.

"That's not the point, Max. It's important for you not to get hurt. You need the money from the fights, and you need to be in perfect health when the big brawl comes around. You're no use broken."

"I'm not broken!" I announced heatedly. "It's going to take a lot more than Dylan and his puny gang to break me."

Jared balked, and I realized my mistake. "_Dylan_!"

"It doesn't even matter," I muttered, glaring down at the floor.

"My brother did this to you!" Jared shouted, enraged. His nostrils were flaring, and he was clenching and unclenching his fists. There was a dangerous look in his eyes, and I could practically see the steam rolling in waves off of him.

"Dylan's stupid. We all knew that . . . and stupid people do stupid things sometimes." Was I seriously making up an excuse for him!

This didn't go unnoticed by Jared. He turned his glare on me, his eyes flashing. "Why are you still trying to protect him? After everything he's done to you . . . to my family, why are you still trying to make it seem like he's not responsible for his actions?"

I groaned, running an agitated hand through my hair. In truth, I didn't know the answer. Maybe it was just out of habit . . . I had gotten used to making up excuses for Dylan's odd behavior in the time we had been together . . . but had I really known him, when our relationship started? I mean, I had met him only two weeks prior to his being my boyfriend. Obviously, I wasn't aware that he was so unstable.

I was just a foolish fourteen year old, who happened to catch the eye of an amazingly gorgeous guy. That was all I had ever seen in Dylan . . . His personality had absolutely no depth. It was only a matter of time before he couldn't hide the monster he was, though.

Jared hadn't seemed to mind that I had dumped his little brother. In fact, he acted relieved that our relationship was over. Matters in his family were almost as twisted as my own. I wasn't sure what went on behind closed doors, but tensions ran high when the two were together. It was obvious that they despised each others company.

"Look, let's not talk about it right now, okay? I'll handle my little brother later," Jared spat, his eyes narrowing.

I didn't make a comment, still too wrapped up in my own thoughts. I just nodded and settled down into a fighting stance, squaring off with Jared who was positioned at the opposite end of the ring.

All talking ceased as my concentration zeroed in. I focused on controlling my breathing, and watching for chinks in Jared's defense. With my rib, I couldn't block things well. It stung every time I moved. I needed to knock Jared out before my tolerance for pain filled. Offense though, hurt just as much.

Jared made a quick strike, his knuckles grazing my side. I hissed in a breath, biting my lip so hard my mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. I spat to the side, knowing I'd be the one cleaning it up anyway.

I could see the way he was holding back then, realizing I was tiring. Taking advantage of this, I rushed forwards, faking to the right. He ducked to escape my fist, but I just brought a kick in from the left, knocking him to his knees. I jabbed at his chin and he fell back, rolling onto his stomach. He hurried to push himself to his knees, but I rested my foot on the small of his back, pressing down. He grunted, staying flat on the floor.

"I win," I mumbled, helping him up. I wasn't nearly as excited as normal.

"You feeling alright?" Jared asked in concern, already reaching out to my side.

I swatted his hand away, pressing my own palm to my rib. I probed along the bandage, applying pressure every once in awhile. It panged most of the time, but the exercise didn't seem to make it any worse, which was a good sign.

"Yeah, I'm just tired," I finally conceded, which wasn't unnecessarily true.

"Do you want to call it quits for the day?" he inquired, still giving me a worried glare.

"Sure. You should probably get home anyway," I replied indifferently, shrugging.

"I'll give you a ride home," Jared said in a no-nonsense tone, meaning he wasn't going to let me refuse.

I pondered this a moment, considering I was planning on staying to work. I wasn't willing to admit this to him though, and besides, I had come in yesterday. Leroy wouldn't mind after all. Plus, it would make Jared feel better about my injury. I could tell he felt partially responsible, but only because Dylan was his brother.

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes. "But on one condition."

"What?" he asked warily.

"You admit that none of this is your fault . . . " I said quietly, but I knew he had heard. "You have no influence over what Dylan does, Jared. You can't control him. No one can. It's futile for you to try."

"Maybe if I wasn't so mean to him when we were kids, he woul-" he began, but I cut him off.

"There are some things you can't fix . . . and some things you can't stop from happening. Dylan is who he is because of the choices he makes. It has nothing to do with you, or how you treated each other as children," I insisted.

"But-"

"Just drive me home! I'm not going to waste my time arguing with you, if I'm never going to get through your thick skull."

Jared snapped his mouth closed, and I smiled tenderly. He may seem scary, but he _was _a major softie. There was no doubt about that. He was the protective older brother I never had . . . He understood things other people didn't. He was no stranger to family problems, as proved by Dylan and his heinous acts.

We walked to his car in silence, and I slipped into the passenger seat as he climbed into the drivers, turning the key in the ignition. I fumbled with the radio dials, trying to find a station that wasn't all static. As I was consumed by this, I thought I saw a flash of black out of my peripheral vision. I turned my head quickly, but when I looked, there was nothing but the empty street.

"It's a lost cause," Jared commented, motioning to the radio.

"Oh . . ." I muttered, shutting it off completely. I glanced around again as we pulled out onto the road, but there was nothing for me to see. Jared sped up as we started moving along, and soon we had turned a corner and the gym was out of sight.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched though, and I shrunk into my seat, ducking my head so that my hair fanned out over my face. Call me paranoid, but after Dylan's attack, I wasn't taking any chances. Not when I was still so on edge.

"You alright?" Jared questioned, taking note of my hunched figure.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I brushed it off easily.

He nodded, still giving me a peculiar look. I managed to straighten up, smiling all the while. Finally he gave me a curt nod, turning his attention back to the road. I barely suppressed a relieved sigh, resting my cheek on the cool glass of the window. I watched the city streak by, praying he wouldn't ask me any more questions. For once I got what I wanted. He came to a halt, idling at the curb.

"Thanks for the ride."

"No problem kiddo," he replied, flashing me a grin. "Any time."

"I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Actually, no. I'll be out of town. The day after though, we can meet up at the gym after you get out of school. Sound alright?" This was news to me. Jared rarely took trips. He liked staying close to home, in case something happened.

"Cool." I nodded, hopping onto the sidewalk.

"And be careful while I'm gone!" Jared shouted, tacking it on as an afterthought.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head as I chuckled. Oh, he had no idea the trouble I could get into. I skipped up the steps, yanking the door open. I heard him call after me again, saying something like; "I'm serious Max!"

I took the stairs two at a time then, nodding hello to a few tenants on the way. I pulled a key out of my pocket, fitting it into the apartments lock easily, but when I twisted the knob, it stuck stubbornly. I groaned, pressing my shoulder to the door. I heaved with all my might, and after a few more tries, it finally gave way. I tumbled into the living room, almost falling flat on my face. My backpack tipped onto the floor as it was, and the zipper I hadn't noticed was open, allowed all my things to scatter across the ground.

"Angel! Gazzy! I'm home," I announced, as if all the noise I made hadn't warned them of my entrance.

Gazzy's head appeared over the edge of the couch, his blonde curls in a wild disarray. His eyelids were drooping with fatigue as he glanced sleepily up at me, suppressing a yawn.

"Hi Max," he greeted me, his mouth in a wide 'o'.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," I said sincerely, patting his head. "Go back to bed."

"Alright," he murmured, his head already lulling to the side. He collapsed onto a pillow, curling up with his blanket strangling his feet. I pulled it gently from beneath him, laying it so that it covered his entire body. He shifted slightly, burrowing his face deeper into the cushion. I smiled, brushing a stray tendril away from his face.

"Max, is that you?" Angel asked, coming around the corner.

"Yeah, it's me. What are you doing back there?" I inquired.

"I was coloring," she replied innocently, smiling up at me like a saint.

"Well, it's time for bed now. It's getting late." I shooed her forwards, propelling her to our room. She didn't put up any resistance, climbing gratefully onto her mattress. I helped her settle down, tucking the blanket under her chin. She cuddled her bear to her chest, smiling up at me.

"Good night, Ange." I kissed her forehead softly.

"Good night," here she yawned hugely, "Max."

I slipped out of the room quietly, sliding the door closed as I went. I tip-toed back to the living room, picking up my things as quickly as I could, without making a sound. I carried everything into the kitchen, flipping on the light. I sat down at the rickety table, spreading all my homework in front of me. My mind wandered frequently during that time, returning to the incident with Dylan . . . and Fang patching me back up again afterwards.

After about an hour I closed my last book with a sigh, shoving everything into my bag. I took a quick shower, the water even more frigid than usual. I didn't stay in any longer than I needed. Even so, when my head finally hit my pillow, I couldn't get Fang out of my mind . . .

I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

**Authors Note: What do you think? Tell me in a review! They're much appreciated, after all. (:**


	8. Sick

**Authors Note: Is it bad that I feel like I haven't updated this in forever . . . when I published a new chapter yesterday?**

**Chapter Eight:**

_**Sick**_

I slipped the letter into the mail, my heart pounding. Our deadline was up. I couldn't put the threat of Social Services off any longer. Since Jared was away, it was the perfect time to settle things straight. I had sat down with the questions, and made up lies. Not elaborate ones, that put us in a state of bliss . . . but believable tales, that ensured no inspections.

Not for the first time I wished Mom was clean and sober, and able to take care of this kind of business herself. She had in the beginning . . . before she got hooked on the high drugs gave her, that is. Now I was left to make it all up as I went along.

I hadn't even tried to get her to cooperate. Don't think I haven't ever tried to cut her off. It didn't work so well the last time, and it wasn't ever going to. I _had _to raise this family on my own. There wasn't any hope left for the empty shell she had become.

"Max?" Angel asked curiously, tugging at my shirt. I looked down at her, realizing vaguely that I had been staring off into space, a far away look in my eyes.

"Yeah?" I picked up her hand, cradling it in my own. We walked back up the steps, her scuttling quickly to keep up with my long strides. Angel was pretty tall for her age, but so was I.

"When will Mommy get better?" she inquired, batting her eyelashes at me innocently.

"What?" I deadpanned.

"Mommy said she was sick. When will she get better?"

I froze, pulling Angel to a stop with me. My gaze burned into hers, and she seemed puzzled at my reaction; her eyebrows pulling together as her lips puckered in bewilderment.

"When did she say that!" I demanded, gritting my teeth.

"Last night . . ." she said in a small voice. "I took a nap and had a bad dream, and when I woke up, Gazzy was asleep and you weren't home yet. I was scared, so I went into Mommy's room. I'm sorry, Max! I know you tell us not to go in there, but I- I was-" she sniffled, her big blue eyes filling with unshed tears. I knelt in front of her, hugging her shoulders.

"Shh, it's okay Ange. I understand," I murmured softly to her, petting her blonde curls as she shuddered.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, hiccuping slightly.

"Just tell me what happened," I ordered, pulling back so that I could look into her eyes. She stared straight back, the corners of her eyes puffy and red.

"She was sitting up in her bed, staring at the wall. I climbed up beside her, and she turned to look at me. She just sat there for awhile, not saying anything until I finally told her I had a nightmare. She put her hand on my cheek and whispered something I couldn't hear. Then I asked her what was wrong . . . why she couldn't be our Mommy, and she said she was sick . . ."

"Oh Angel." I hugged her to my chest again. "What happened after that?"

"I tried to keep talking to her, but she stopped answering me. After a few minutes she told me to go and play with Gazzy, so I left. That's when I came out and saw you," she explained.

"Every thing's going to be okay," I assured her, kissing her forehead affectionately.

"But when will Mommy get better?" Angel insisted, peering up at me in concern.

"I don't know, Ange . . . I really don't know," I answered after a moment of thought. _Probably never_, I added in my mind, though I would never say it out loud. She was young, and I would let her dream for as long as she could. When she got older she'd understand . . . Mom had gone to a place of no return.

When we finally walked through the door, after Angel had dried her eyes, I heard the shrill ringing of the phone. We stepped inside just in time to see Gazzy hop over the couch, which I had told him _not _to do numerous times, and pick it up.

"Hello?" Gazzy asked boredly, keeping his eyes trained on the television.

His brow furrowed, and he listened intently for another moment before turning to face me with the phone held out loftily in his hand. "It's for you."

I snatched it out of his palm, raising it to my ear cautiously. _Please don't be Denise, please don't be Denise_; I chanted in my head, like a mantra. I answered all their questions in time. I still had two more days, after all. It would get there in plenty of time. I always beat my deadline, no matter what it was.

"Hello?"

"Max?"

A great gust of air billowed out of my mouth, as I let go of the breath I had unknowingly been holding. Relief surged inside me, as I replied; "Oh, hi Leroy. Yeah, it's me. What do you need?"

"I was wondering if you could come in tonight. I know it's short notice, but I . . . um, some of my family members are coming into town, so the gym will be closed for a few days." He sounded even stranger on the phone, not to mention the awkwardness in his tone. I don't think Leroy made many calls.

"You're mother," I said knowingly, smirking.

"Uh . . . yeah," he admitted tiredly.

I laughed. "I can be there in twenty minutes. Thirty tops."

"Okay, thanks," he muttered before hanging up. I listened to the dial tone a moment longer before setting the phone back onto the table.

"Who was that?" Gazzy asked curiously. Didn't these kids know that curiosity killed the cat? They should really stop with all the questions.

"A friend of mine," I lied, breezing past him as he sat on the arm of the sofa. I gently pushed his shoulder, making him topple backwards. "And no sitting there," I reprimanded him.

"Fine," he huffed, rolling onto the floor with a thud. He seemed content to stay there, resting his head in his hands.

I was almost to my room when the phone started ringing again. I sighed, racing back into the living room. I snatched it up a second before Gazzy did, slipping in front of him. He punched my back, but I just smirked down at him.

"Hello?" I asked into the receiver.

"Hi Max!" an enthusiastic voice blared. "Is Gazzy around?"

"Um . . . I think so. Here let me check. _Gazzy_? Oh, Gazzy!" I called mockingly, holding the phone in the air so he couldn't reach it.

"Max," he whined. "Give it to me!"

"Sorry Daniel, I don't think he's he-" I began, but Gazzy ripped the phone from my grasp.

"Hey Danny," he greeted him, shooting me a glare. He twiddled with the fringe of his t-shirt, plopping down on the couch. He was launched into an animated discussion about some cartoon, so I turned again, and made my way back down the hallway.

I paused outside my mom's room, tempted to go in and see how she was for myself. The disappointment of seeing her conked out though, was stronger than my burning curiosity. I left, the door still tightly shut.

Angel was playing with her bear on her bed, having an imaginary tea party with some old cups from the kitchen. I told her I had to go out for awhile, and she nodded her head without sparing me a glance.

I grabbed a jacket in case it was chilly out and made my way back through the apartment. I was almost to the door when I saw the pout on Gazzy's face. I was immediately immobile, set up on high alert.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"Danny wants me to spend the night at his house. His Mom's taking him to the arcade tomorrow, and she said he could bring a friend. Please, oh please can I go?" he begged.

I had opened my mouth, fully prepared to deny his request, when I thought of what he had been doing the past few days . . . or rather, what he spent most of his time doing anyway. It was a whole lot of babysitting and watching TV, and that wasn't healthy for a boy his age. He needed to get out with his friends. Play some sports. Do something other than sit at home, doing nothing.

I sighed. "Call Nudge."

"Yes!" Gazzy shouted gleefully, punching the air. "Max says yes, as long as Nudge can watch Angel! I'll call you right back."

He had Nudge's number dialed in in record time, listening impatiently as it rang. It didn't take her that long to pick up, her voice enthusiastic and chipper as always. Gazzy quickly asked her if she could babysit for awhile, and by the grin that spread across his fast in an instant, I'd bet she agreed.

"Thanks," he exclaimed before hanging up. I stopped his hand before he could call Danny back with the good news.

"I have to go now. You don't leave until Nudge is here, alright? Not under any circumstances. Make sure you take enough clothes, and _be good_," I warned him, giving him a defiant glare. He nodded his head vigorously in compliance.

"Bye Angel!" I called, and I heard a muffled reply.

I ruffled Gazzy's hair one last time as I exited the apartment, hurrying down the steps. My feet hit the pavement at a brisk walk. I didn't want to tarry around at this time of night. The sun was beginning to set, and I didn't want to be around when the shadows came out to play, bringing their gangs and drug dealers with them. Not when my rib was still so sore.

I made it to the gym in record time. My speed may or may not have been due to my having practically ran the entire way there. I wasn't used to being so cautious and wary. It looked like I was scared, which was one thing I wasn't.

Leroy was nowhere to be found on the gym floor, so I figured he was stuffed up in his office as usual. I knocked loudly on his door to let him know I was here, but didn't pry. The guy was probably stressing majorly about his mother's visit. That was one thing I'm sure he didn't want me to see. He sounded distressed enough over the phone.

I found the cleaning supplies in the closet and got to work immediately. I scrubbed off ten years worth of grime on the remaining pieces of equipment, then swept all the floors. Once they were all sparkling I set to work on the windows, washing them until they gleamed like new. When I glanced at the clock I realized I had been there for almost four hours already. The time had, quite literally, flown by as my determination narrowed.

I put the things away, meandering towards the office as I admired my handiwork. I hadn't done a half bad job. Maybe I could even convince Leroy to splurge on a new coat of paint. The walls were looking kind of shabby, and the color was severely peeling in most places. It was at that moment that I actually realized I cared about this place . . .

I shook my head, getting rid of those thoughts. I took a deep breath to calm myself before knocking hesitantly on the door. The knob twisted and pulled back, Leroy poking his head out.

"Done already?" he asked, giving me a hard glare. I didn't take it personally. That was just how Leroy was.

"It's been four hours," I reminded him, tapping my wrist, even though there wasn't a watch there.

"Oh . . . right. Well, good job this week Max." He glanced away, like the praise made him uncomfortable.

"Thanks," I said with a smile.

"Next time you come in I should have your first weeks pay," he mumbled before slamming the door in my face.

"Right," I muttered to myself, picking up my jacket on the way out. I slung it across my forearm, not having any need for it at the moment. All that work had me breaking a sweat.

The air was cool and refreshing on my skin as I stepped outside. I took in a deep breath of the night air, lingering at the entrance. Finally I pulled myself away, setting off in the direction of home. As I turned out of the overhang, I almost ran smack-dab into somebodies chest. My eyes were filled with the cloth of their shirt, and I sucked in a harsh breath as I looked up.

"Hey Max."

**Authors Note: Cliffhanger! (: If you review, you might get the next chapter tomorrow . . . AGAIN! That's three days in a row (;**


	9. Twisted

**Authors Note: If I wasn't so sore from volleyball conditioning right now, I would jump for joy. Thank you veeerryy much for the reviews (: I'm uber happy now! You deserve another update! (Why do I use so many exclamation points!)**

**Chapter Nine:**

_**Twisted**_

"Fancy meeting you here," they drawled, leaning lazily against the brick wall. Their expression, however, was serious.

"Fang."

I couldn't seem to process the situation properly. I was still too shocked. What was he doing here! The coincidence was a bit too . . . coincidental for me to believe. How in the world had he tracked me down here?

"That would be me." He smirked.

"How . . .? Have you been following me?" I demanded. My eyes narrowed as I squinted up at him. I wasn't used to people being taller than me, but he had a good three inches on my five eight. It kind of ruined the demeaning effect.

His smirk grew more profuse, almost to the point where it was a smile. "And what makes you think you're that special?"

"You did save my life," I pointed out.

The smirk slipped off his face, being replaced by a hostile glare. I couldn't help but shrink back slightly. Never before has someones gaze alone frightened me, but his dark eyes were instilling that fear quite nicely.

"Yeah, and what do I get in return? You running out on me as soon as my back was turned," he growled.

I opened my mouth, an indignant retort on the tip of my tongue. One look into those midnight eyes though, and my thoughts evaded me. They were fathomless and mysterious. I found myself wanting to know more.

"Well?" he asked harshly. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

That seemed to snap me out of my hypnotized state effectively.

"What I do is none of your business," I snapped, shoving past him. I didn't spare him another glance, forging on ahead. This whole thing was just too weird for my liking. He wasn't going to let me off that easily, though.

"And why not!" he snarled, grabbing my arm. I tried to yank it from his grasp, but his strength was like iron, and I couldn't escape.

"I don't even know you!" I shouted, spinning around to glare at him.

He seemed at a loss for words, so he settled on giving me a penetrating stare, that made me want to squirm on the spot. The intensity in his gaze was unparalleled by my own. There was something about him that scared me. He made me want to run far, far away . . . yet there was another part of me that found him allusive and alluring. I wanted to know all his secrets, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why.

"Why do you even care?" I asked breathlessly, my arms going slack at my sides. He didn't let go though, seeming to think I would run at the first sign of defeat. He was smart in thinking that.

His brow furrowed. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Then let me go," I whispered, and something in his eyes flashed, but his face stayed impassive as ever.

"At least let me drive you home," he insisted.

"No," I stated, my voice deadly.

"It's not safe for you to be walking around! I saw Dylan," he informed me, and my eyes widened. "He looked horrible, but he was up and running around with his little pack."

"Already?" This was _not _good news.

"So let me drive you home."

I hadn't even realized Fang was slowly steering me towards the car parked at the side of the rode, but as he spoke he lifted the passenger side handle, pushing me down gently onto the seat. I was still partially frozen in shock (and maybe a little fear), so I didn't put up any resistance. I just stared numbly at my hands folded in my lap, my expression grim.

"It's going to be okay," he assured me quietly, assessing my position with a keen eye.

"How do you know?" I mumbled, peeking up at him through my hair.

"Because I'm not going to let him hurt you again," he replied, easing out onto the street; one hand on the steering wheel . . . the other resting dangerously close to mine.

"Why?" I inquired. I was still puzzled at why he seemed so intent on making sure I was safe.

"You don't deserve to go through that pain," he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

"How do you know?"

"I . . . I don't, I guess." It seemed he was just as confused as I was, which meant I wasn't getting answers to my many questions anytime soon. Not if he didn't know himself.

We lapsed into silence then, each pondering our own thoughts. Fang didn't look at me once. His focus was entirely on his driving, and I wondered how mad he really was. I studied him, noting the way his jaw was clenched, and how his hand was practically suffocating the steering wheel, he was clutching it so hard. Yet even though I was blatantly staring at him, his eyes never once strayed to mine.

"Who are you?" I asked suddenly, without even realizing I was about to do so.

"Um . . ." he mumbled, puzzled. "I'm Fang, remember?"

I sighed. "I know that! I'm not stupid . . . but Fang's just your name. Who are you _really_?"

"Maybe I'll show you sometime." He smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"What makes you think we're going to see each other again?" I inquired nonchalantly, though I was more serious than I probably let on.

That finally got him to look at me. He glanced over sharply, and I detected a bit of alarm in his expression. "We _will _see each other again . . ." Suddenly he didn't seem so sure of himself . . . "Right?"

"My house is just around this corner," I said, instead of answering his question.

He swerved quickly, taking the turn. His eyes only flickered from mine once, but they immediately returned, his glare heavy. I smiled innocently at him, looking out the front window shield with disinterest.

"Stop right here!" I shouted suddenly.

He slammed on the breaks to avoid totalling the car in front of him, as my breath caught in my throat. I swallowed thickly, watching in horror at the events unfolding before me.

There was a jam of vehicles backed up on the street, with a police officer slowly waving them through. An ambulance, lights and siren blaring, was parked haphazardly in one lane. People were standing all around the scene, their faces white masks of terror.

I fumbled with my seat belt, and once free of that, I yanked on the door handle, trying to get free. Finally, Fang came to his senses, hearing my frustrated cries, and unlocked the door. I was out of my seat in seconds, tumbling across the sidewalk. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring all the complaints. I felt Fang following closely behind. I managed to shove my way to the front, where the police had set up that annoying yellow 'caution' tape.

I caught sight of Nudge speaking in earnest with an officer, her face trailed with tears. My heart fluttered, stammering uncontrollably in my chest. Without hesitation I ducked under the tape, pushing those who tried to stop me away. Fang didn't seem to mind. He just stayed in pursuit of me.

"Nudge!" I screamed through the uproar, my throat tightening painfully as she turned to face me, her eyes clouding up with tears again.

"Oh my God, Max! I'm so sorry," she gurgled, new additions being added to her already tear-stained face.

"What happened!" I demanded in anguish. "Where's Angel!"

"I- I tried to stop her," she sobbed, dropping her head in her hands in shame.

"What happened!" I repeated.

"W-we were going to go t-to my house to get some m-make-up. She w-wanted me to give h-her a make-o-over. S-she ran i-into the str-reet, and the-en the c-car came around t-the corne-er so fa-ast. I couldn't st-top her," she wailed.

"Where's Angel?" I screamed, shaking her shoulders roughly. "Is she okay?"

"She's i-in the ambul-lance. They're a-about to lea-ave," she stammered. "I'm s-so so-orry."

"It's okay, Nudge. It's not your fault," I insisted, before turning away. I blindly made my way forward, Fang close at my side.

When the back of the ambulance came in sight I sprinted forward, seeing a flash of blonde. "_Angel_!" I cried agonizingly, my throat raw. I skidded to a halt, catching a glimpse of my little sister . . . covered in blood, her body twisted and mangled. Tears welled in my eyes, and I felt like screaming all over again.

"Ma'am, would you please step back?" An officer asked calmly as the paramedics hefted Angel into the ambulance.

"That's my little sister in there!" I howled, pushing against his chest as I tried to beat my way through. The pain in my side, nor the noise around me registered. All I could see was Angel's crumpled form. It was everywhere to me.

"You're a relative of this little girl?" he inquired, his grip loosening.

"Yes!" I shouted despairingly. "Now let me through!"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but the ambulance is all full. Is there any way for you to acquire a ride to the hospital?" His impassive expression was unnerving. Did he not care at all? Angel could be dying!

"I'll take her," Fang offered, putting a hand on my shoulder. The officer nodded before disappearing back into the crowd. Before I could take another step the ambulance doors had slammed shut, and they were racing off down the street at top speeds.

I sucked in another painful breath, a tear trailing down my cheek. I swiped it away, and it took everything in me not to break down and sob right then and there. I whirled around, my nose touching Fang's chest as he stood close to me. My lower lip quivered and I buried my face in his shirt, wrapping my arms around his waist. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, not making a move, before he slowly put his own arms around my shoulders, patting my back uncomfortably.

I pulled away, frowning up at him through the haze my unshed tears had created.

"That was the worst hug ever," I accused him. "My baby sister just got carted away in an ambulance and I'm emotionally stressed out right now, and you just gave me the saddest excuse for an embrace I've ever encountered in my entire life."

He stared down at me with a hooded expression, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. Without a word he pressed his lips tightly together, guiding me by the shoulder back to his car.

I sat in perpetual sorrow, the anxiety settling in like a torturous blanket over the night.

**Authors Note: Would this be considered a cliffhanger? I think it might! Try for the same amount of reviews, pleeeeaaase! (: Who knows, you might get the next chapter tomorrow . . . AGAIN! (:**


	10. Haunting

**Authors Note: How many days in a row is this? I've lost count. This update is a bit later than the others usually came, but it's still just a day after I posted chapter nine. Anyway, thanks a bunch for your reviews! They mean a lot to me (: You guys are great!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride :( .. *SOB!***

**Chapter Ten:**

_**Haunting**_

My head was pounding as I sat, my back rigid in the hard, uncomfortable plastic chair. I drummed my fingers insistently on the arm, my foot tapping against the cold tiles. I kept glancing around futilely, every time someone past. Nurses rushed by in their uniforms, clutching clipboards and pushing gurneys. Doctors meandered by as well, their white coats blending with the walls. Everywhere I looked it was white, white, white. There weren't any splashes of color what so ever. The antiseptic, sterilized smell filled my nostrils; the cause of my headache. Even the low humming of the machinery made me want to bash my skull into the floor. Anything to get the haunting notes out of my mind.

Strong fingers wrapped around mine, ceasing my tapping. I glanced up, startled. I was met by two onyx colored eyes, staring intently into mine. Fang's expression was tired and grim, and I realized I must have been wearing him out.

"Just calm down," he said softly, squeezing my hand.

"How can I calm down!" I hissed. "My baby sister is in there, and they won't let me see her!"

"Max, relax," Fang ordered smoothly.

I sighed, wilting in my seat. My spine hit the back of the chair with a thud, and I slid down deeper, the pain anything but dull. If something bad happened . . . If Angel didn't get better, I didn't know what I would do.

"You need to distract yourself," Fang said, finally letting go of my hand.

"No, I need to see my sister," I insisted, jumping to my feet. Fang tried to grab my arm, but I pulled out of his grasp, stalking up to the front desk. I slammed my palms onto the counter, and the nurse working there looked lazily up at me.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her eyes drooping.

"Yes. I want to see my sister. _Now_," I demanded ferociously, grinding the words out through gritted teeth.

"Name?" she inquired, turning to her computer.

"Angela Ride," I said steadily.

She clicked away at a few things, windows popping up left and right. Finally she returned her gaze to mine, looking even more bored than before. With a sigh she said; "Miss Ride is not taking visitors at the moment. Please have a seat and we'll let you know when you can see her."

"I've been waiting here for three hours!" I screamed, punching my fist into the desk. "I don't have any idea what's going on! I don't know if she's doing okay, or if she's on the edge of death! Somebody say something useful!"

"A doctor will be with you shortly," she muttered, spinning back around.

I groaned in frustration, running a hand through my hair. My other palm stayed fisted together and I looked around in agitation, searching for something I could send a hole through. Fang seemed to sense my anger, because he stepped in front of me, his hands on my shoulders.

"Max, just breath," he commanded. Something in his eyes was hypnotizing, and I felt myself calming down under his touch.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as he suggested. Once my nostrils had stopped flaring, I took a step away, rubbing my temples. I looked around, catching sight of a payphone nearby. I fished around in my pocket for a few quarters and slid one in, quickly dialing the number.

"Who are yo-" Fang began, but a put a finger up, making him wait.

"Hello?" a pleasant voice answered.

"Hi Mrs. Patrick," I greeted Danny's mom, my voice uneasy.

"Max, what's wrong?" she demanded.

"There . . . there was an accident." My voice faltered, and then I continued on. "Angel got hit by a car."

"What!" She gasped in horror.

"I was wondering if you could drop Gazzy off at the hospital on McMann's street? I think I'd feel better if he was with me," I said honestly, twisting the cord around my finger.

"Of course dear. I'll bring him right down."

"Thank you," I replied gratefully, before hanging up with a soft sigh of relief.

"Who's Gazzy?" Fang asked curiously, his eyebrow raised.

"My brother."

"You have a brother too?"

I nodded, plopping down into a seat. I dropped my head in my hands, resting my elbows on my knees. Fang didn't pry further, and we sat in a comfortable silence for the next twenty minutes. My nerves were strung taught when Gazzy finally burst through the emergency room doors, his head whipping back and forth.

"Gazzy!" I shouted, my jitters put at ease.

"Max?" he called, rushing forwards. I stood just as he reached me, his skinny arms latching onto my torso. He buried his face in my stomach, his breathing ragged. I patted his head soothingly, hugging him tight.

"Where's Angel?" he sobbed, tears springing in his eyes.

"They haven't let me in to see her yet. I'm sure she's okay though . . . I would know if something bad happened . . ." I promised him, leading him to the group of chairs.

The wait seemed like forever. I was strung taut, practically shaking in anxiety. Gazzy was asleep beside me, curled up in the chair with his head resting in his hands. Poor little guy was probably worn out from all the grief surrounding him. Finally though, after about four more hours, a doctor approached us, his expression haggard. I immediately thought the worst, my heart jumping up in my throat.

"Are you Max?" he inquired cautiously, staring at Fang. He shook his head at the same time I said; "That's me."

"Angel's been asking for you," he informed me, glancing down at his clipboard. I don't think he actually needed to do it, but it did make him look more professional, which was probably what he was going for.

"So she's okay?" I demanded, my breath catching as I waited for his reply in dreadful anticipation.

"She's badly hurt. Her right leg his broken, and she had a severe concussion. She also lost a lot of blood, which is potentially dangerous without a blood transfusion," he said solemnly. "Luckily, we had a few pints of her blood type to spare. After an extensive amount of stitching her up in the places she was cut, and setting her leg up in a sling, we had to examine her head to check for any damage the impact may have caused."

"Just tell me if she's going to be okay," I said through gritted teeth, balling my hands into fists. Fang put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, holding me in place. He seemed to sense that I was about to go for the doctors throats. I hated doctors before the accident, and I hated them even more now thanks to this man and his incapability to get to the point. I didn't need all these theatrics.

"She'll have to stay for awhile, but yes, she should be fine in the long run," he assured me, and I breathed a sigh of relief, sinking down into my chair. It was like I had deflated, all my worries draining away.

"Can we see her now?" I asked hopefully.

"As long as you're quiet, and you don't startle her," he conceded.

I moved faster than I ever have before, weaving my way through the maze of chairs at lightening speed. Vaguely I heard Fang shaking Gazzy awake, but I kept moving, dodging around anything that came in my path without slowing down one bit. I skidded to a halt outside of Angel's room, trying to contain my excitement. Busting inside wouldn't be a good way to _not _startle her.

I took a deep breath before twisting the knob carefully, letting the door swing open by itself. I stepped into the room, my sight immediately honing in on the small, huddled form sprawled out on the hospital bed.

I approached Angel's side, biting my lip. Her curls surrounded her face like a halo as she slept peacefully, her breathing even. Tears welled up in my eyes again as I thought about the accident. None of this would have happened if I had been there to protect her.

"Angel?" I whispered, stooping down lower.

She stirred at the sound of my voice, her blue eyes fluttering open. She seemed momentarily confused, glancing around in a daze. I grasped her tiny hand tightly in mine, planning on never letting go.

"Max?" She sounded so small and frail, like a wilted flower.

"I'm so sorry," I murmured, pressing her palm to my cheek as a tear tipped over and spilled out onto my face. She stared at it, mesmerized. I realized that was probably the first time she had ever seen me cry.

"You had me so worried," I told her, my tone scolding.

"I didn't see the car," she said brokenly, shuddering at the memory.

"It's okay Angel. Don't think about it. You're okay now, and that's all the matters," I insisted, smiling sadly down at her. She returned the grin with a slight grimace of her own.

"Is Nudge alright?" she wanted to know.

"Nudge is perfectly okay. I'll go call her in a little bit and tell her you're awake. She really wants to see you," I informed her. "She thinks this is all her fault, so you make sure you assure her its not."

Angel nodded, laying her head back down on her pillow. "Max?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm tired," she mumbled sleepily, her eyes sliding shut.

"Then go to sleep."

I pressed a small kiss on her forehead, the tips of my hair brushing her face lightly. She complied with ease, slipping back into a deep slumber. I monitored her for a moment longer before becoming aware of another presence in the room. I turned around to see Fang leaning in the doorway, a sleepy Gazzy standing beside him, looking anything but alert.

"Come here." I beckoned my little brother forward, and he stepped cautiously into the room. I motioned for him to continue, and he walked to my side, peering down at Angel worriedly.

"Is she-?" he began.

"She's just tired. She's had a rough day. We should let her sleep," I whispered, steering him towards the door.

"No!" He struggled against my hold. "I want to stay and watch her. Someone should be here in case she wakes up!"

I sighed, glancing back at Angel. She looked like a tiny little doll, mangled and broken. Slowly I nodded, pulling a chair up for Gazzy to sit in. He plopped down automatically, resting his head against the beds side, where he had a perfect view of Angel.

"I'm going to go call Nudge," I informed him.

He nodded without sparing me a glance, and I quietly left the room, easing the door shut behind me. All the while I felt Fang's heated gaze on my back, glaring a hole into my skull. When I turned to face him he had a strange look on his face as he stared at me.

"What?" I demanded, more loudly since we were in the hallway.

"Nothing," he muttered, ducking his head and effectively ending the spell he had me trapped in.

"Why were you giving me that look!" I demanded, crossing my arms across my chest in defiance.

"You just . . . I don't know. It's obvious you care a lot about those kids," he answered reluctantly, giving me a vague shrug.

"They're my brother and sister. Of course I care about them. Don't you have any siblings?" I inquired, realizing for the first time that I didn't actually know anything about his family. I didn't know a lot about him.

"Nope. I'm an only child," he replied, accompanying me as I set off down the corridor.

Our conversation was interrupted as I dialed in Nudge's number, trying to ignore the commotion and haunting expressions of those in grief around me.

**Authors Note: So it's not a cliffhanger, but please, please, **_**please **_**review anyway. I've come to realize that, as much as people hate them, they're more likely to review if there **_**is **_**a cliffhanger, opposed to when there's **_**not**_** . . . So review? (:**


	11. Elegance

**Authors Note: I don't really know what's up with FF. Something's screwed up, and though I'm not exactly clear on what the problem is, I just want to say I don't have any control over it. More than one person is talking about disfunctional URL's and missing chapters. I really have no idea what's going on. Anyway, read on!**

**Chapter Eleven:**

_**Elegance**_

I didn't leave the hospital for the next five days. Nudge stopped by to drop off clothes for Gazzy and I, begging to be of some assistance in any way she could. At this point, she could be manipulated to do anything . . . but I wouldn't do that to her. Not in the state she was in.

Gazzy wandered around the hallways, occasionally getting scolded for meandering in places he wasn't allowed. I didn't stop pestering him about leaving. As much as I worried about his safety now, he really needed to go home. Someone had to watch over Mom. In truth, we were kind of abandoning her . . . just like she had us. Still, we couldn't leave her alone for much longer. Who knows what crazed thing she'd do if we weren't there to stop her.

Angel was doing much better. She grinned like normal, and even laughed on occasion. She was more her bubbly self, despite the dreary atmosphere the hospital was cloaked in. I couldn't wait until they released her, so we could finally get out of this morgue.

The most surprising thing of it all though, was that Fang never left my side. He was always there, just around the corner. I couldn't fathom a reason for his staying, but I didn't question it. He was incapable of answering my questions with a straight response. It was more frustrating than just not knowing.

"Hey guys," Nudge greeted us with a wavering smile. I suppressed a sigh, gratefully taking the bundle she handed me.

"When you leave today, take Gazzy with you," I ordered, bracing myself for his outburst.

"No!" he shouted. "I'm staying with Angel."

"Gazzy," I said sternly giving him a meaningful look. "Maybe you should go call _Mom_."

Recognition seemed to light up in his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to budge. He even crossed his arms over his chest in emphasis, raising his chin in defiance. He wasn't going to be easily convinced.

"Don't worry Max! _I'll call _your _Mom_," Nudge said, stepping into my line of vision.

All the while Fang was leaning against the wall, glancing between the three of us. His expression was mostly blank, but I could see the flickers of confusion in his eyes.

"That's awfully nice of you, but that's not your responsibility," I hurried to say, through gritted teeth. I was perfectly aware that Nudge could watch over my mom easily enough, but I was still wary.

"It's already settled. I'll go chat with Ange a bit, and then go." She turned on her heel, stepping into the room before I could refuse.

"Sorry Max," Gazzy muttered, before slinking away after Nudge.

Fang was still boring a hole into my skull, so I reluctantly turned to face him, one eyebrow raised in question. He continued to stare at me, his gaze searching, as if he was looking for something.

"What!" I demanded crossly, throwing my hands up in the air.

"I have a feeling that little episode had nothing to do with calling your Mom," he stated simply. My guard went up immediately, and I threw the defenses up quickly. He seemed to take note of this. He seemed to take note of a lot of things about me.

"Well then that shows how much you _don't _know," I said stiffly, brushing past him. I kept my head down as I stalked through the corridor, in the vague direction of the cafeteria. Hospital food sucked, but it was better than nothing. Plus, I had become pretty good friends with the cook, because when I wasn't with Angel, I spent most of my time there. She slipped me something good every now and then.

Fang hurried to catch up with me. "I didn't mean to make you mad."

"Whatever. What are you still doing hanging around anyway?"

He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. A typical answer to the question, and trust me- it came up often. I groaned, shaking my head in exasperation, but he made no comment; just languidly loped along beside me with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"You drive me insane," I muttered as we entered the cafeteria.

"Maybe that's a good thing." He smirked. "I get the impression that not enough people do. It'll be good for you."

"Or it'll kill me," I retorted, shooting him a glare.

"Don't be melodramatic," he said with a shake of his head, rolling his eyes in my direction. I didn't get this at all. Here we were, walking side by side, sharing this effortless banter, when I barely knew him.

"Melodramatic? Not so much. Realistic? Quite."

I stepped up in the line, but soon realized I wasn't actually hungry. The gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach was from something else entirely. I settled on a lemonade, forking over a dollar reluctantly. I hadn't even started to think about how much money this was going to cost. We would be salvaging for quite some time after this.

I was close to heading back upstairs, when I changed my direction, plopping down at one of the tables in the farthest corner, where no one else was seated. I wasn't ready to get back to reality just yet.

Fang was staring at me pensively, a knowing look in his eyes. I was about to demand to know what his problem was, when he answered by himself.

"You really need to get out of here," he stated simply.

"I can't leave Angel," I insisted.

"Gazzy says the same thing, but you still try to make him leave," he pointed out.

"That's . . ." I struggled for the right words. "Different."

"Is it?" He tilted his head to the side, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes. And you wouldn't know anything about out," I growled, glancing away murderously.

"I'm just trying to understand," he explained, folding his hands in front of him.

"Then stop," I spat.

We were quiet for the next minute as I sipped my lemonade, He continued to stare at me thoughtfully, to the point where I was becoming thoroughly unnerved by his unwavering attention. In the end, it was he who broke the silence.

"She wouldn't mind if you went out for a day. You know she wouldn't."

"That's not the point."

"Come on, Max. Just for _one _day. My house isn't too far from here. We could go over there with Gazzy and just relax for a few hours. This hospital is making you uneasy. It's so obvious. Angel can see it too."

"I don't think it's a good idea," I replied offhandedly, coming to my feet.

"Why not?" he asked, staring up at me through his long eyelashes.

"Something bad could happen while I'm gone."

"You can't control everything, Max," he said softly. "You wasting away here isn't going to ensure her health. The doctor's say she's getting on fine. _Nothing _will happen."

It was hard to disagree. He seemed so sure of himself. That didn't make me want to leave Angel any more, though. I just wanted to hold on tight to the fragile abyss she was perched upon . . . but he was right. I also needed to live a little in the process. This hospital was sucking my soul away. It was a devil in disguise, if you asked me.

I sighed in defeat. "If you can convince Gazzy, then I'm game."

I balanced a lot of my faith on my little brother just then. There was a part of me that just knew he would refuse. He felt responsible for the accident in his own way, just like we all did. He figured that if he had been home, babysitting instead of Nudge, Angel wouldn't have been out in the street at all. The same 'what ifs?' that frequently danced through my mind were just as potent in his.

Therefore, I felt rest-assured that nothing Fang promised would make him want to leave his little sisters side. He thought he owed her too much to just abandon her, all alone in her sickly state.

So imagine my surprise when he let out of a whoop of joy, agreeing almost instantly as Fang proposed his idea in the hall. I had spluttered inchoherently, searching madly for an excuse to make him rethink his decision, but one scathing look of warning from Fang had me biting my tongue furiously . . . which was why I found myself in Fang's car, my arms crossed over my chest as I glared out the window in defiance, refusing to meet his gaze. Gazzy babbled manically from the backseat, rambling on and on to fill the void of silence. He wasn't stupid. He could sense the tense emotions running high in the air, and he tried to put us ill at ease as much as possible.

He wasn't a miracle worker, though.

After awhile I tuned him out, and Fang being the chatter box that he is, took my place. Um . . . not. His whole focus was on the road, but I could see the small sighs emanating from him as my bitter mood reigned on.

Worry settled in, as my maternal instincts took over. Was Angel okay? Was she sad that we left? Was she mad that we abandoned her, even if for only a few hours? These thoughts were quickly replaced with more trivial matters such as; what if something goes wrong? What if the doctor's screw up and she gets seriously hurt? What if something happens and I'm not there to stop it? What if-

"Almost there," Fang muttered, peering at me out of the corner of his eye.

I shrugged indifferently, turning away from him once again as I settled my angry glare out the window, pressing my shoulder against the cool glass. I took note of our surroundings with mild interest, that quickly escalated into disbelief.

I didn't know how I hadn't noticed before, but at some point we had left the dirty, crime-ridden streets I had grown up in behind. We had entered a strange sort of paradise, where the more wealthy residents resided. Here the streets were clean and pristine, unlike the cluttered sidewalks I had known my whole life. The buildings were well kept and managed, most of the towers belonging to only one family, instead of many. When you had money like that, you put it to good use. Privacy was a foreign concept where I came from.

The few people out and about, walking dogs or pushing baby strollers, smiled and waved at anyone who passed. Their faces were bright and open, a friendly demeanor all around. No one glanced about suspiciously, their downcast gazes shady as they slipped in between the shadows.

It was utterly perplexing to watch, and I found my brow furrowing in confusion at how unaccustomed I was to such behavior. Surely I had known that not everywhere had to be filled with hate and deceit.

"Are you going to come inside, or are you just going to sit and gawk?" Fang's amused tone broke through the awe-struck barriers in my mind, and I quickly snapped to attention.

"Huh?" I wonder aloud, only to see that both Fang and Gazzy had already exited the vehicle, and were staring at me with barely suppressed laughter. Gazzy chuckled to himself, and I shot him a dangerous glare that shut him up instantaneously.

I whacked him upside the head when I passed, slamming the car door shut as I went. He grumbled to himself but took his spot at my side, his blue eyes shining in excitement. I was surprised when I felt his hand slip into mine. He hadn't done that since he was eight . . . One look up though, and I realized why he might have felt so endeared.

Fang's house was _huge_. I'm talking at least three stories high with ginormous pillars, _huge_.

He glanced back to see my expression, and smirked at the way I was ogling the mansion. I couldn't help the frown that slipped onto my face then, thoroughly disgruntled. I hadn't realized Fang was spoiled rich, which just brought up the fact that I _didn't know him at all _up again. So why was I putting so much trust in him?

"Come on," he said, reaching out blindly for the door. His piercing gaze was still settled on mine, his eyes smoky and emotionless.

He ushered us into the foyer, and my frown deepened. There was a big crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, and a white marble staircase winding intricately around the room. I hated when people flaunted their wealth like this. It was incredible ostentatious and snobbish of them. I was breaching another side of Fang's character . . . and I didn't like it.

"Nicholas!" A high pitched voice snatched me from my reverie, and I glanced around as I tall, slender woman practically floated into the room. Her midnight locks were twisted into a perfect bun at the nape of her neck, and her pretty blue eyes shined. Her features were prim and slanted, and she looked extremely young. The way she moved indicated a hidden elegance as she sauntered over to where we stood, Fang at total ease.

"Nicholas?" I couldn't help but snicker.

He shot me a look, opening his mouth to retort, but the women beat him to it.

"And who might these two be?" Her tone sounded friendly enough, but her gaze was flinty as she stared calculatingly at me. I tried not to reciprocate her cold indifference with a snarky comeback, letting Fang handle the uncomfortable situation.

"Mom, this is my friend Max and her little brother Gazzy," he said by way of introduction, seemingly oblivious to the stare-down I was having with his mother, apparently. "Guys, this is my mom, Aria King."

"Hi," I muttered stiffly, and Gazzy waved jubilantly, bouncing in place.

"Hello. It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, her voice pleasant enough, with an undercurrent of false sweetness.

She turned away from us then, Fang encompassing her full attention. She fussed over his appearance for a moment, and he refused to meet my eyes in embarrassment. Finally he gently pushed her hands away, muttering something under his breath.

"Why don't you take your . . ." she faltered almost unnoticeably, before continuing;" friends, to the tea room. I'll join you momentarily." She gave me a wide grin before flitting off, disappearing through an archway.

The smile, however, never reached her eyes.

**Authors Note: I know it's a horrible cliche to make Fang the rich kid . . . but that's just how my mind words when it comes to these things, I guess. Review even though it's not a cliffhanger! (I believe that's about to become my parting question as of right now, when it fits :P) Please? (:**


	12. Missing

**Authors Note: Sorry for not updating yesterday. My aunt was in town, and we didn't get home until late. By that time I was too tired from chasing little kids around all day, that all I could manage was falling into bed.**

**Chapter Twelve:**

_**Missing**_

In the next instant Gazzy's short attention span has been captured by something else, all awkwardness from the previous engagement aside. He rushed into the next room, in the direction Fang had been headed towards, a brilliant smile lighting up his features.

"If he breaks something, it's your fault," I muttered as I shoved past Fang, taking off after Gazzy. As I raced behind him I called out; "This isn't our house Gazzy! You can't just go traipsing off wherever you want!"

He looked back only long enough to roll his eyes at me, sticking out his tongue. I groaned, sliding to a stop as he rounded a corner, muttering profanities as I followed closely behind.

"Don't touch anything!" I bellowed, seeing him reach out to snag a corner of a silky, lace covered curtain as he flew by the window. His hand pulled back at the last second, and he glanced over his shoulder sheepishly. I slowed a bit, knowing that if I had really wanted to catch him, I would have by now. There was a little voice in the back of my head whispering that I wanted him to knock over some priceless heirloom . . . just to see the look on Mrs. King's face.

I entered the next room, full of huge windows filtering in a soft light. There were some comfy looking couches, and a few stiff and uncomfortable looking chairs, one of which was occupied. Upon seeing Gazzy skid to a halt in the middle of the room, she let out a horrified shriek, her hands flying to her mouth in disgust.

"Who let this filthy street urchin in here!" she demanded, curling her lip in distaste. Her long, flowing red -and so obviously unnatural- hair was situated in wavy curls around her face, her eyes flashing fiercely at the sight of Gazzy.

"You better pray you didn't just call my little brother a street urchin," I growled, my hands fisting together. I took a menacing step towards her, watching in satisfaction as her eyes widened in fear.

Gazzy looked mildly hurt, a small frown creasing his features. He didn't seem too affected by her thoughtless words though, only slightly baffled. I, on the other hand, was absolutely livid. No one insulted my family like that without paying the price.

"Max!" Fang shouted, gripping my shoulder. He tugged me back into his chest, unclenching my left fist with the hand not restraining me from leaping at Ms. High-and-Mighty.

Mrs. King was standing in the doorway, a shocked expression on her face. She was delicately holding a silver tray, topped with God knows what. I didn't have the patience to pay attention to that.

"Isn't she charming?" Fang asked nervously, slinging an arm around my shoulder. He smiled weakly at his mom, and then turned his grimace on the girl still sitting rigid in her chair.

Mrs. King's features relaxed, a serene expression taking its place. "Yes, quite," she murmured unconvincingly, shoving past me. She jabbed me in the side with her elbow, and I fought back a hiss as it connected with my still tender rib.

There was silence then, no one feeling particularly akin to relieving the quiet. Gazzy was glaring down at his feet, standing still in the position he had been in the entire transaction. I was busy trying not to show the way Fang's arm felt pressed against my shoulder, like fire and ice meshing into one. After another few minutes of this Fang coughed, clearing his throat.

"I think I'll show Max and Gazzy around a bit more," he suggested, already steering me to the door, with a quick jerk of his head to motion for Gazzy to follow. He did so immediately, scrambling after our retreating backs.

Mrs. King made no comment, only nodded her head before taking a seat across from the girl. They resumed a hushed conversation, the red-head shooting me wary glances every other second. I smirked, feeling pleased that I had frightened her. My mood was soon overtaken by something else though, and that was the wavering fact that Fang still had his arm around my shoulder, and it didn't seem like he planned on letting go . . .

"I'm really sorry about that," he apologized suddenly, looking down at me with a hooded expression.

"What?" I asked dumbly, my mind still jumbled from the sensations running haywire down my neck and shoulder as Fang's sleeve brushed up against them.

"What Brigid said . . . that was totally out of line. You have to forgive her though. She grew up under different circumstances. She's twenty four, but I swear she's never stepped foot out of this neighborhood," he explained, his lips hardening into a grim line.

"You mean she grew up privileged?" I inquired, my tone not lacking the acid I was feeling.

"I didn't mea-" he began hurriedly to say, but I cut him off as if I had never heard.

"Like you."

The silence that followed was deadly, seeming to seep in from everywhere all at once. At that moment it was just him and me; _Max and Fang _. . . nothing else. Gazzy all but disappeared, fading into the background.

"You didn't tell me you were filthy rich," I muttered, when it seemed he had nothing to say to my accusation.

"You say it like it's a bad thing," he replied reproachfully, not meeting my eyes. I saw the way his jaw had clenched, his arm holding me tighter than before. I didn't resist, or pull against him. I let him simmer.

"It's not bad, necessarily . . . but it just proves that I still don't know anything about you."

"I plan on changing that." Something in his obsidian eyes flickered as he finally gazed down at me, those dark iris' so intense I wanted to melt. He expressed little in that one look, but I seemed to catch a vast amount all the same.

"Is Brigid a friend of yours?" I asked, changing the subject. Anything to get him to quit looking at me like that . . . It made me feel vulnerable, like he could snap me like a twig . . . and I didn't like it. At all.

He shifted slightly, glaring ahead. "Not really, no. She's one of my mom's good friends though."

"Didn't you say she was twenty four? Why is she friends with your _mom_?"

"She's younger than you may think. She had me when she was sixteen . . . I know, hard to believe," he said at my shocked expression. I mean, I thought she looked young, but I had added that all up to a _really _good plastic surgeon.

"I see," I murmured, unable to think of anything else to say.

"My mom has this twisted vision that Brigid and I will get together. It doesn't matter that she's seven years older than me," he revealed, almost causing me to choke on nothing but air.

"That explains it then."

"Explains what?"

"The look," I informed him, frowning.

"What look?"

"The one your mother gives me every time she glances my way," I supplied.

"She doesn't give you a 'look'," he insisted, and I shook my head, laughing bitterly.

"Oh yes she does. She glares down at me with her nose upturned like I'm the scum beneath her feet. Trust me, it happened. She doesn't like me."

"You don't know that." At that point I didn't know who he was trying to convince . . . me, or himself. It seemed likely that it was both.

I nodded along with him, not feeling up to the argument. There were sharp twinges fluttering all across my rib, which was strange because I hadn't been bothered by it in awhile. It seemed to be healing up quite nicely, once Angel blabbed her mouth to the nurse about it being broken. Despite my adamant refusal, Fang had held me down while they fixed it up properly. It should be perfectly fine by tomorrow, which was the night I absolutely had to fight, even though I hadn't had any practice in awhile.

I ignored the pain, adding it up to the elbow Mrs. King had dug into my side 'accidentally' when she had passed me before. I didn't care what Fang said, she was totally out to get me. You could see it in her cold, iron-like eyes; along with the smiles that never seemed to reach them.

"Alright Gazzy," Fang announced, shouldering open a door. He pulled me along with him, me still being glued to his side. "This is the game room, AKA every kids dream."

"Whoa," Gazzy murmured in awe, slowly turning around in a circle with his mouth wide open, taking in the sight before him. I glanced around in disinterest, my sight landing on the old arcade games and many other more recent electronics.

It was a Gazzy heaven, that's for sure.

"I give you free reign." Fang motioned all grandly around the room, and once Gazzy had jolted out of his daze, he let out a whoop and launched himself into the midst of things, shouting out exclamations every once in awhile.

I couldn't help but smile, seeing the genuine glee on my little brothers face. It wasn't something I saw a lot.

"And I'm thinking we can go raid the kitchen. I'm starving," Fang said, smirking down at me.

"Uh, I think I'll stay here and watch Gazzy, actually. You go ahead.:"

I could have been mistaken, but for a brief moment I thought I saw a looked of disappointment flash across his face, before Fang's emotionless mask was back in place. He shrugged, extracting himself from me.

He didn't once look back as he disappeared through the door, leaving me standing all alone . . . missing his touch more than I had ever thought I could.

**Authors Note: Kind of a filler, kind of not. Review anyway! Pleeaaase! If I get more reviews than the last chapter, I'll consider updating tomorrow *hint hint* (:**


	13. Assured

**Authors Note: You're lucky. You had ONE more review than the previous chapter, and I was feeling generous (; Anyway, prepare yourself for another crap-tastic fight scene! :/**

**Oh, and I forgot to mention this last chapter, but the whole ordeal with Fang's house: the apartment **_**isn't **_**his. I said it was his **_**friend's **_**apartment, remember?**

**Chapter Thirteen:**

_**Assured**_

"Maybe you shouldn't do this."

I snorted, rolling my eyes. My sight was honed in on the masculine figure standing across from me, and I flexed my knuckles reflexively. All of my deadly attention was poised on him, taking in his every move. Even the way he rolled his shoulders didn't escape my notice.

"You haven't trained in awhile-"

"That's never stopped me before," I pointed out, my sight never straying from my opponent.

"You're rib still isn't fully healed-"

"It's fine," I insisted, stretching the gauze wrapped tightly around my fingers. There was still some taped around my abdomen as well, but I could barely feel the pressure.

"And on top of that you're stressing over Angel-"

"Angel's fine, too. She's out of the hospital tomorrow," I replied nonchalantly, shrugging as I effortlessly brushed off every one of Jared's excuses.

"But Max-" he started in again, and I sighed, wrenching my gaze away from its target. I glared at Jared, cutting off his fussing. Sometimes, he was worse than the mother I never had.

"Jared," I stated heatedly, forcing him to listen. "I need this money. Do you think they took care of Angel for free? The hospital fee's are going to be immense. I have to get cash, and quick. Schedule in double the fights until further notice. I have a lot to catch up on."

His face softened, and he murmured; "You know Sarah and I will help out in any way we can."

"I know . . . but the truth is, you can't afford it either. You and I both know that. So if you want to help, than just let me do what I want."

"Bu-"

"I have to go. Duty calls. Remember what I said though. If you just follow orders, we'll be back on our feet in no time. I . . . I got a job. A real one. It should help cover some of the costs, but I'm going to need these fights as a backbone," I explained, seeing the shock register on his face at the mention of my job. I didn't want to tell him, but I knew it would assure him that I wasn't totally in debt.

He blew out a resigned sigh, his shoulders slumping. "Alright Max. Do what you think is best. Knock 'em out, kid!"

I smirked, stepping out into the open. Cigarette smoke wafted into my vision, and I swatted it aside, trying not to breath too deeply the rancid stench. There was a tinge to it, however, that wasn't tobacco. It reminded me of my mother, and I knew that somebody was smoking up something they shouldn't be. Then again, everything about this was illegal. What was the harm, really?

Someone to my right lurched forwards, belching loudly. His beer was sloshing out of his cup, spilling right down the front of him. He was too drunk to notice though. He swayed from side to side, grinning wickedly at me. His hand waved madly, brushing up against my arm. His fingers were moist and sticky, and I recoiled instantly.

"Whatsa madder, purty girrrl?" he slurred, making a grab for me again, this time in a lower region.

I snapped, catching his arm in an iron grip. I twisted it tauntingly, until he was wincing in pain. He started mumbling something I couldn't hear, but didn't cry out. I shoved him hard, and he tumbled back into his buddies, who were guffawing and whistling appreciatively. Pigs.

"Alright guys, step back," a deep, gruff voice commanded over the din. I glanced up to see one of the huge, bouncer-like gentlemen that was in charge of keeping the rowdy crowd in place. There were a few employed at certain areas at almost every fight. I gave him a grateful smile, and he winked in return, before resuming his stony facade. He jostled the men back, despite the obscenities they were flinging at him foully. He hardly seemed to notice.

I shook off the incident, stepping up to my place. My opponent, who was less bulky than Keegan had been, but still well muscled, sneered at me from his own spot. You could tell he was older, which meant he was more of a veteran. I tried to take stock of possible approaches in the few minutes that lapsed. Jared was too busy trying to convince me not to fight, that he hadn't had any time to debrief me about who I was up against.

Usually, the younger ones had more brute strength on their side. Veterans were smarter though. They had more experience. I'd have to drop all pretenses right away. It wouldn't be any use to trick him. I'd just have to do my best to wear him out.

The prize money, I was loathe to see, wasn't much. At this point though, I would take anything I could get.

We squared off as normal, and I shot him a wicked grin. He grunted in response, his face betraying nothing. He tried to stay impassive as I taunted him, lurching forwards and backwards, dancing out of his reach. He could only go so long before the anger started bleeding through. Finally he gave a roar, swiping out at me like a bear would with its paw. I twirled, ducking under his fist. Before I could leap away he brought his other hand down, punching it into my jaw.

I swore, stepping away. My eyes narrowed. I had gotten my fill of watching him squirm. Now it was show time. He seemed to sense this, because he automatically went into defense mode. I lashed out, and he easily ducked under my arm. I did much the same as he had, bringing my other fist forward. He saw it without effort, preparing to block.

I decided to switch things up a bit. At the last second I pulled back, spinning out. My foot landed with a satisfactory thump in his stomach, knocking him back a few steps. I attacked while he was winded, landing a couple punches in odd places.

Finally he managed a kick to my knee, and I crumpled. Normally, no one would have gotten through my defenses enough to do that. Maybe Jared had been right in suggesting I hold off on this fight. My mind was all screwy from Angel's accident, and I was out of practice . . . but even if it was a major lapse in judgement, I needed this money . . . and this old bear wasn't about to stop me.

I growled under my breath as he tackled me to the ground, pinning me with his legs. He held my face with both hands, grounding it into the pavement. I struggled uselessly, before holding extremely still. He relaxed, thinking I was giving in. Not a chance, buddy.

I heaved myself upwards, arching my back. He bucked off, not anticipating the move. I flipped onto my stomach, clambering to my feet. The initial shock seemed to be wearing off, and my opponent had pushed himself to his knees. I swooped in before he could come to a stand. One punch to the eye and he was wavering. Followed by a kick to the gut and he was keeled over. A well aimed fist to the temple and he was out like a light.

Not feeling sorry for him in the least I raked my nails across his cheek for effect, watching in satisfaction as he landed, unconscious, on the ground.

"Now we match," I spat, wiping away the blood that was dripping down my own cheek. Stupid git had gotten a good swipe in, though the wound didn't matter much in the end.

"Our little miss sunshine, Maximum wins again!"

The appreciative roar of the crowd barely registered. Something about this whole ordeal had my mood extremely foul. I snatched up my money as soon as humanely possible, waving off the audience who practically crowed in approval. Jared was giving me a watchful look, checking me over for injuries that minute I was in close enough range.

"I'm fine," I muttered. "Let's just go already."

He nodded without a word, ushering me to the door. It was a highly known fact that Maximum didn't stay to revel in her glory. I had more pressing matters to be worried about, other than disappointing my 'fans'.

When we were all loaded up in Jared's car he tossed me a towel, and I smiled gratefully. He started the car, driving away without a second glance. I wiped away the perspiration that had accumulated, ripping off the gauze around my knuckles as I went. I pulled down the mirror, inspecting my cheek. The cut was shallow, and most of the bleeding was already done. I would clean that up later. The only other thing was a small incision above my eye, which was easily dealt with. My ribs twinged every time I twisted the wrong way, but I didn't much mind that either.

"That was a good one tonight," he remarked; his version of small talk.

"Yeah," I agreed, not really in the mood for chatting.

"Got any place special you need to be?" he inquired, sensing I wanted to change the subject.

"Actually, I do. Could you drop me off at the gym?" I asked, staring out the window as the buildings raced by in a blur.

"Sure. What do you need there?"

"I forgot something," I lied. What I really needed was my paycheck. Since Angel was in the hospital, I had never gotten around to picking up my money from Leroy. He was surprisingly understandable about the whole thing, saying I could come back whenever I was ready.

All talking between us ceased then, as Jared drove silently. I didn't mind, my mind wandering elsewhere. My thoughts, however, seemed to only have one direction, and that was Fang.

After we had left his house, he had dropped us off at the hospital. When he didn't follow, I had been mildly surprised. He had claimed he had something he needed to do that night, and that he would see us later. He was acting suspicious, and I didn't like it. He had been expressionless as always, but he refused to meet my eyes. I knew something was up, but I didn't press him for details. He didn't know all of my dirty little secrets, therefore I didn't need to know all of his.

"Here we are," Jared commented, pulling to a stop in front of the gym. "I'll wait here until your done."

"That's alright, I was planning on walking home. You know, checking in on mom, and getting things ready for Angel's return," I assured him.

"Max," he said sternly, and I returned the look. "It won't be any trouble at all. Besides, after what happened with my brother, I don't want you wandering around all alone at night."

"And I appreciate that, but Dylan needs to see that I can take care of myself. What's he going to think when he see's his big brother chauffeuring me around everywhere?"

"He'll know to leave you the hell alone," Jared fumed, and I shot him a sympathetic smile.

"I'll walk. I need the time to think."

Jared stayed silent, contemplating my words. After a moment he sighed in reluctance, running a hand through his messy hair. "Fine . . . but don't say I didn't warn you. And_ be careful_."

"I will." I rolled my eyes.

"You're wearing me out, you know that Max? I'm too young to have gray hairs!" he cried indignantly, flashing me a teasing smile. I returned it automatically, patting his arm.

"It suits you."

"Get out of here," he muttered, shoving me playfully.

I laughed quietly, stepping out onto the curb. I waved goodbye, watching as he drove off into the distance. Once he was far enough away I turned resolutely, slinking into the alleyway. I pulled out my key, fitting it into the lock. The side door creaked open, and I was met by pitch blackness. I fumbled for the light switch, squinting in the dim lighting filtering in from outside. Once the overhead bulbs were flipped on, casting a yellow luminescence across the grimy office, I shut the door tightly behind me.

I brushed up against a bookcase as I meandered through the room, raising a cloud of dust. I coughed, rubbing my eyes. Next place I cleaned would be here. This place was filthy! How could Leroy work in such conditions?

I hunted around until I found the file cabinet. I ran my fingers along the top until they bumped up against the dead potted plant seated upon it. I lifted it carefully with one hand, while the other crept around for the key I was informed had been hidden there.

Once my fingers brushed up against it I pulled it out, fitting it into the lock on the second drawer down. It clicked in the silence, sounding abnormally loud. I shook off the eerie feeling, rifling around amongst the papers. I finally found the envelope addressed to me, smiling in triumph.

I replaced everything, flicking off the lights as I went. I stuffed my pay into my pocket, feeling reassured by its weight alongside my prize money. This was getting me one step closer to paying off the hospital bill, and assuring my siblings safety.

I slipped back cautiously into the night, making sure to lock the door behind me.

**Authors Note: Feel free to tell me how much of a failure I am. At least you'll be reviewing, after all! I make no promises with updates this time around. As it gets closer to school time things are picking up, and I'm a bit busier than I was before. Review?**


	14. Pending

**Authors Note: Thanks for the reviews, although there was a slight drop in numbers. I'm okay with that though. I still got some, which is enough to make me happy (:**

**Also, something I realized at some point. When you put an exclamation point before the question mark, it takes away the question mark automatically on FF. I was all, upon noticing this, 'wtf?' If you do it the other way around it works . . . I think. I guess we'll just have to see.**

**Chapter Fourteen:**

_**Pending**_

It was late. I was tired and hungry. The air was chilly, and I didn't have a jacket. The biting wind stung the still tender slash on my cheek. I was suddenly and irrevocably miserable for no reason. The money I had earned seemed ill in comparison to my desire to just go home and fall into bed. I wished that everything was back to normal . . . or as close to normalcy as things got around here; meaning no hospital bills that I couldn't pay, and perfectly healthy siblings.

But since when did I get what I wanted?

I shuffled along with my head bent low, ignoring the sounds that seemed to escalate in the night. There was no one around at this time, but that didn't rule out the fact that someone could be lurking just beyond the shadows, ready to pounce . . . Man, was I paranoid or what?

Behind me the street lit up as the striking glow of a car's headlights bathed my surroundings in light. I raised my head a bit, but thought nothing of turning. They would pass me by in a minute anyway. As they came closer, the gentle rumble of the engine reached my ears. I found it a welcome breach in the creepy silence that had settled around me.

My anxiety, however, rose when the car slowed to a crawl beside me. I glared straight ahead, my pace never changing. I evened out my breathing, keeping my expression neutral on the off chance that the driver could actually see my face.

My fists clenched at my side as I saw the window being rolled down out of my peripheral vision. A head stuck out, peering intently at me. I didn't recognize the person, his strawberry blonde hair in a wild disarray. His sharp, bright blue eyes were slightly cloudy and his pale nose was dotted with a light peppering of freckles.

"Yo, Max!" he called.

I froze, turning slowly. My eyes narrowed as I glared fully at him now. He seemed unperturbed, only smiling in a friendly manner. I was giving him a full on death glare now, but he didn't seem to mind at all. He retracted his lanky frame back into the car, and I saw a flash of black. I looked more closely, and Fang's smirking face appeared, leaning towards the door.

I blew out a breath, my shoulders relaxing.

"Seriously Fang?" I demanded. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Sorry," he replied, not sounding apologetic at all. He killed the engine, and in the next second he was ducking out onto the street, loping towards me. I stood my ground, crossing my arms over my chest indifferently, trying to mask the shiver that ran up my spine as an icy breeze fluttered by.

Fang's expression was relaxed as he approached, but when he got closer he seemed disgruntled. Without saying a word he reached out, his fingers probing along my cheek. I flinched away automatically, taking a step back. He was too busy staring down at his finger though, which was covered in my blood, to notice my resistance.

"What happened to you?" His tone was hard and emotionless. His eyes were shiny and reflective like a wall had been thrown up in front of them, to hide away what he was feeling.

"Nothing," I muttered, dabbing at the wound with my own hand. It wandered above my eye, lightly running along the cut there as well. The movement didn't escape Fang's notice, and his expression seemed to harden even further, if that was possible.

"That doesn't look like nothing."

"It doesn't concern you," I hissed, turning my back to him. I knew I was being stubborn . . . and I knew he was just worried, but he didn't have any right to be. We may have gotten closer in the time we had spent together, but we still didn't know each other that well. I could tell he was harboring a secret, just like I was . . .

"The hell it doesn't," he snarled, ripping me back towards him, his hand like a vise around my forearm. "Who was it? _Dylan_?"

"No," I replied hastily, wrenching my arm from his grasp. "I haven't seen Dylan since that day."

"Then who?" he demanded.

"It's none of your business," I said slowly, enunciating every word clearly. For the time being, I seemed to get my message across, because he backed up unwillingly, his eyes softening.

"Fine, you don't want to tell me, then don't. I'm just trying to help you," he mumbled, staring off into the distance with his hands shoved into his pockets.

"I know . . . but some things are better left unsaid."

An awkward silence ensued, in which Fang made no comment and I was too afraid of his reaction to my words to disturb the quiet. We just stood there, each of us staring off into a different direction.

"Uh . . . not to ruin the moment or anything, but I'd like to get home sometime tonight please," the boy from before called, his head sticking out the window once more. I stifled a laugh, glancing over at Fang.

"I guess we should go," he conceded, smirking down at me.

"Right," I murmured. "Bye."

He raised an eyebrow, gripping my arm once more. "Because I'm totally going to let you wander around here looking like that. Come on. We'll get you all cleaned up, then I'll take you wherever you need to go."

"That's alright, I-" One glare from him had me biting my tongue.

He pulled me back to his car, and being the gentlemen that he is, he graciously opened the door for me . . . then shoved me roughly in, almost making me fall flat on my face. I grumbled to myself as he chuckled quietly, slipping into the drivers seat.

"Hi," the other guy said, turning to face me. "I'm Iggy."

"Uh . . . hey," I muttered.

"I'm the owner of the apartment you were once patched up in," he explained, smiling at me.

"I see." I was acting like Fang, what with my short responses, but he didn't seem to mind.

"And just to make this clear right away, I'm blind," he stated simply.

I nodded, before realizing my mistake. "Oh . . . um, okay."

"I was also Fang's best friend before everything he did became consumed by thoughts of you."

I was dumbstruck by this, and I'm sure my face must have showed it too. I bit my lip, scrambling for something to say in reply, when Fang beat me to it, along with a well aimed smack upside the head. Iggy winced, rubbing his ear.

"Shut up," Fang muttered darkly.

"No need for violence," he whined. "I just thought I'd throw that out there."

Fang pulled up outside a familiar apartment building, idling at the curb. He turned to glare at Iggy, his hands still gripping the wheel harshly. His knuckles were turning white with the pressure.

"Get out."

"Don't forgot to pick me up for school," Iggy reminded Fang.

"You guys go to the same school?" I inquired, surprised. When you lived where Fang did, you didn't attend the same school's as people who lived around here did.

"We all go to the same school actually," Iggy said. He seemed to sense my confusion, because he went on; "We don't have any classes together, so you probably never noticed me before . . . and Fang-y boy here is a transfer. His first day is tomorrow."

"Oh," I replied, mulling this over. I would see Fang at school now too? I wasn't really sure how I felt about that. There were butterflies dancing all in my stomach, and I didn't know what to make of it.

"Yup. See you guys tomorrow." Iggy dashed off then, taking the stairs two at a time. He turned to wave once more before he disappeared through the doorway, out of sight.

Without a second thought I clambered over everything in my path, sliding into the passenger seat. Fang made no comment, just smirked at me before driving off. I settled down against the soft leather, leaning my head against the window. My breath fogged up the glass, but I didn't have enough energy to wipe it clean. My eyes drifted shut and I could feel my breathing deepen.

"Max?" Fang asked, shaking my shoulder lightly. I started, shooting up with a gasp. I glanced around, momentarily dazed, before I recollected where I was. The dashboard glowed, flashing the time. I had only been sleeping for ten minutes, which would explain why I was so groggy.

"Huh?" I mumbled, rubbing my eyes sleepily.

"You never told me where you wanted dropped off," he said, his voice low and smooth.

"Oh . . . um . . . I need to go home for a few minutes, then to the hospital," I explained, stifling a yawn. "Do you remember where you dropped me off last time?"

He nodded, meeting my gaze briefly. He didn't elaborate further, he just manually took the correct turns as I watched, pinching myself every few seconds to stay awake in case he needed further directions. He seemed to know where he was going though, and in no time he was pulling cleanly up to my apartment building.

I was suddenly self conscious, and just the tiniest bit embarrassed about the state of my home. He wouldn't actually set foot inside my apartment, or even the building for that matter, but the place was kind of shabby. Not anything like the castle he lived in.

"I'll be right back," I murmured, and he nodded slightly in consent.

I ambled up the front steps, glancing behind me at least twice. Forgive me for thinking that this was all just a dream, and that if I didn't keep an eye on him, he would disappear into the night like a ghost.

Finally, I managed to swallow down my anxiety, and I swiftly navigated the corridors until I came upon my apartment. I turned the knob, checking to see if it was locked. The crack under the door showed that the lights were off, so I made sure I was quiet as I tip-toed into the living room. The answering machine was blinking furiously in the dark, so I pressed the button to play the message.

"Rebecca Ride? This is Tanya Finnley from Courtland Square Elementary school. I'm calling to inform you that your son, Zephyr, has been continually acting out in class, and setting bad examples for the other children. Yesterday, Zephyr got into a fight with another student. Expulsion is under pending for both the boys. We've sent quite a few notes home, but they haven't seemed to reach you. Please, give the school a call as soon as possible. Thank you."

I stood, frozen in the wane light filtering in from the window. I listened numbly as the machine rambled on about different options, before I finally pulled myself away. Blinking rapidly I traversed down the hall, entering my room as if in a trance. I stuffed a set of clothes for Angel into a bag, then got a change for me as well.

I made it to the bathroom without much trouble, methodically cleaning my wounds. I slapped a bandage on my cheek and eye, before picking up the things I needed. As I left I locked the door behind me, forgetting all about checking in on mom.

When I made it back to the car Fang seemed to sense something was wrong. He asked just that, but I shook my head, my eyes still glazed over. He gave me one of those searching gazes, but I just turned my head, and eventually he stopped pressing me for details. All was quiet as he drove to the hospital, one thing running around in circles in my mind:

Gazzy was acting out?

**Authors Note: And Iggy is FINALLY introduced. I know some of you were wondering where he was. I guess I'm just different in the fact that I don't introduce all the characters in the same chapter, like most people do. Anyway, review?**


	15. Burdens

**Authors Note: To address an anonymous review, there probably won't be a Fang POV in this. I don't really like switching back and forth between POV's unless it's absolutely necessary. I think the only time I've ever done it was for Third Person, not a different character. So sorry if you were hoping for one, but needless to say it probably won't occurr.**

**Disclaimer: Even though, as someone pointed out in a review to one of my other stories, disclaimer's aren't needed due to the nature of FF, I'll say I don't own Maximum Ride anyway.**

**Chapter Fifteen:**

_**Burdens**_

"If you don't want me to go, I won't," I insisted, pacing the length of the hospital room. Angel watched me from her perch on the bed, swathed in heavy blankets. Her curls were tied up at the nape of her neck, but most of it was twisting out of its hold.

"Go. I want you too," she replied, grinning . . . well, angelically up at me, her blue eyes shining.

I sighed, nodding my head in agreement. This was a good thing. I hadn't been to school since Angel's accident, and now that Monday had rolled around, it would be nice to finally get caught up. I wasn't going just because it was Fang's first day . . . No, not at all.

"Are you exciting to be coming home?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Yes!" Angel cried enthusiastically, her smile wider than ever before.

I patted her head, smoothing down a few stray curls. Her dimples showed as she looked up at me. I wanted to stay by her side forever, protecting my little sister from any harm . . . but time didn't slow for such meager things. I glanced up at the clock, groaning as I realized I had to go.

"Bye Ange. I'll be here right after school, and then we'll finally go home."

"Okay! Bye Max," she called as I lifted my bag over my shoulder. I waved before exiting the room, my shoes squeaking on the sparkling white tiles. A nurse shot me a look, like I had done it purposefully, but I blew past her without a word.

The hospital was relatively quiet at this hour. No dire emergencies or anything of the like. The waiting room was deserted, and there was only one secretary stationed at the desk, looking like she needed another cup of coffee. She smiled kindly at me all the same, and with some force I returned the gesture.

The air outside was frosty, and I pulled my jacket tightly around me. Winter was vastly approaching, as noted by the dead looking tree's, bare of leaves. My breath came out in a fog, and despite the cold, I was . . . happy. Maybe it was just because Angel was coming home, but my mood was lifted drastically.

The walk to school was quick, seeing as the hospital was closer to it than home. Slowly, my content smile filtered away as I took in the plethora of students littering the front steps. People stood in huddles in the parking lot, talking and laughing. I ducked my head as normal, adopting a stony facade. I pushed through the crowd, without making a single remark as people jostled each other to get out of my way. I had to hide the satisfied smirk I felt coming on at their reactions.

"Good morning!" a happy voice chirped, and I glanced up, startled. Annabelle Andrews was standing in front of me, barring my path. Her perfectly manicured nails were painted a glossy red today, her white-blonde hair styled with a ribbon that matched the color. Her brilliant white teeth flashed maniacally as she grinned. Everything about her was fake.

"Move," I stated with a glare, staring down my nose at her.

"Oh, Max! You're so funny," she chortled, putting a hand on my shoulder. I glared at it with enough malice to set her palm on fire, but she hardly seemed to notice. "I heard about what happened to your sister, and I'd just like to personally express my deepest condolences at her misfortune."

"She's not dead," I snapped, brushing her hand off with enough force to send it flying back with a crack. "And I'm sure she'll appreciate your sorrow."

Ah, the joys of sarcasm.

I didn't wait for a reply. Without pausing I shoved past her, sending her flailing. She hit the wall, looking flustered. I smirked, rolling my eyes before I entered the school building. My own personal hell awaited me.

After that no one dared to speak to me. They could tell that I was fuming, and they made sure to steer clear. A few unlucky freshman stumbled across my path, but they darted away before I got my hands on them.

I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself. Huge men intent on my bloodshed I could handle, easy peasy. The cliche's of high school? Not so much. Everything about this place had me wanting to rip my hair out. I should have just prolonged this day and stayed with Angel. It was so much more painless.

"Hey Max," someone greeted me cockily, and I glanced over sharply to see the one person I hated most in this place leaning against the lockers.

"Hello Samuel," I said dryly, brushing past him.

"Come on now, at least say it with some enthusiasm," Sam chided, pushing off from his perch. He matched his stride with mine, much to my abhorrence. I seriously wasn't in the mood to be a part of his little games.

"The only time I would ever associate you with enthusiasm, is if I was planning on punching you," I replied with as much hostility as possible. I let the venom seep into my words. "Now leave."

"But if I leave, I won't get to see your pretty face," he mused. I looked over long enough to see the pout on his lips, before I resumed glaring ahead.

"And if you don't, I'll mess up yours."

This seemed to stump him for the moment, for which I was grateful. There was nothing like an annoying ex to ruin your day further than it already was. There was obviously something wrong with my ability to find guys. I always got stuck with the psycho's. Examples: Dylan and Sam.

"Now run along and find someone else to terrorize. I have better things to do than try to communicate with someone who's intelligence level is lower than a two year old gorilla."

". . . Did you just insult me?" he demanded, fire sparking in his eyes.

"It seems you've taken one two many blows to the head in football. I'd have that checked out if I were you."

"Bu-" he began heatedly.

"Good bye Sam," I stated, rushing off into the mash of students assembling in the hall. With his pea-sized brain, he wouldn't be able to locate me for awhile. Jocks like him were easily distracted.

I made it to my locker with no further troubles, rifling around in my book bag. I placed my books inside, shoving everything else in afterwards. Organized was one thing I wasn't. I was about to slam the door shut again, when there was a commotion further down the hall. I glanced over half-heartedly, but my interest was soon captivated.

The students mingling about parted, shuffling up against the walls. Annabelle came strutting through the middle of the corridor, carting a certain dark haired, silent boy with her. She was talking animatedly, with a lot of over-exaggerated hand gestures. Fang was expressionless as ever, so I couldn't really tell what exactly he was thinking.

I was immobile at my locker, unable to move. Thoughts were racing around my head in a flutter. What if he ignored me? What if he realized what a loner I was, and decided he didn't want to be friends with me? His good looks and money had obviously already won him some power. Annabelle, the beauty of the school, looked absolutely awestruck. I resisted the urge to throw up right then and there, swallowing the bile I could feel rising up.

Why should I care anyway?

I swallowed thickly, clearing my throat. I closed my eyes for a heartbeat, gathering my bearings, before I shut my locker door with a sigh. I gazed over once more, hating the sight of Fang with Annabelle, putty at his hands.

Fang glanced over, and our gazes locked. His obsidian eyes were like rocks, but they softened upon catching my own. One corner of his mouth twitched up the slightest bit, and he started walking faster. Annabelle followed closely behind.

"Hey Max," he greeted me, resting his shoulder against the locker next to mine. The sight of him made my heart skip a beat, and I didn't know why. His hair was swept over his eyes, and I fought down the urge to brush it aside.

"Hey," I said with a small smile.

"You two . . . know each other?" Annabelle's grin faltered.

"Yeah. Now beat it," I said menacingly, and she took a precautionary step back. "Did I not speak clear enough for you?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing.

She huffed, spitting out a 'fine!' before she whirled around dramatically, clacking off down the hall once more.

"Good riddance," I muttered under my breath, and Fang smirked.

"That was kind of harsh," he remarked, and I raised an eyebrow.

"You don't know Annabelle. Not like I do, unfortunately."

"She seemed nice enough," Fang commented, his steady gaze never straying from mine. The intensity in his stare, not for the first time, began to unnerve me. It was like he was reading my every movement.

"Key word; _seemed_."

He snorted, nodding his head. "Alright. I get the picture."

"So where's Iggy?" I asked, trying in vain to change the subject to something that didn't make me want to hurl. Annabelle would like nothing more than to know she was a topic of conversation, especially where Fang is involved.

"I don't know. I picked him up, and when we got here he ran off somewhere," Fang replied, rolling his eyes. 'The kid's nuts."

"I kind of got that impression, actually." I laughed along with him. It was such a normal thing to do, poking fun at a friend's expense . . . if I could call Iggy that after meeting him once.

"Not surprising . . . How did you get here?" Fang inquired. His sudden change in topic had me confused for a moment, before my brain finally began functioning properly.

"I walked."

"All the way from the hospital?" he asked incredulously.

"Uh . . . yeah. Is that a problem?"

"Max, you could have asked me for a ride. I would have brought you," he insisted.

"That's okay. I don't want to be a burden," I mumbled, suddenly fascinated with my shoes.

His fingers found my chin, gently forcing me to look at him. He kept his hand there, lightly brushing up against my skin. His touch sent tingles down my spine, and I fidgeted nervously.

"You're not a burden . . . which is why I'm driving you back this afternoon." By his tone I could tell this was non-negotiable, so I sighed reluctantly, nodding my head in agreement.

"We better get to class," I suggested, taking note of the time.

Fang nodded, stepping away like he had just noticed how close we had been. I shook of the dazed feeling he had me trapped in, looking away so I could gather my bearings.

"Oh, and Fang?" I asked cautiously.

He looked at me, one eyebrow raised.

"I was wondering if maybe you could . . . talk to Gazzy for me."

"About?" he questioned.

"Well . . . we got a call from his school saying he was acting out in class. Then he provoked some kid and they got into a fight. I just thought maybe he'd listen better if you talked to him. He looks up to you a lot . . ."

Fang looked vaguely uncomfortable and I hurried to say; "If not that's fine. I was just asking. You don't have to if you don't want to."

"No, I will," he agreed, cracking a teensy, almost indiscernible, smile.

"Thank you."

We then parted ways, heading off in different directions. I made it to homeroom with only a second to spare, but that was okay. _I_ was okay.

**Authors Note: Slightly filler-ish, but there will definitely be some drama in the next chapter. *Cue ominous music* So review please!**


	16. Sober

**Authors Note: There's becoming a decrease in reviews, although I can understand it with last chapter, because it was mainly just a filler. There wasn't much to comment on. I think this chapter may spark some feedback though (:**

**Chapter Sixteen:**

_**Sober**_

"You didn't need to do that," I stated breathlessly, clutching my aching wrist. I stared down at Sam's unconscious form, lying still on the floor. There was a huge gash running jaggedly across his forehead, and an already mottled, purple bruise forming around his right eye.

"Obviously I did," Fang muttered, indicating the arm I cradled close to my chest.

"You don't understand. I was just about to do the same thing to him, only I've been waiting a lot longer for the opportunity than you have. Trust me," I replied, bending my wrist this way and that to check for a break. Thankfully, Sam had only gripped it hard enough to hurt. He hadn't caused any real damage. Maybe some bruising in the morning, but nothing major.

"You know, for saving your butt so many times from deranged guys, you'd think you'd be a bit more thankful," Fang said reproachfully, but his tone was light.

I smiled, rolling my eyes. "Thank you, oh mighty one. You are sincerely my hero."

"Watch the sarcasm."

"Thanks though . . . really. Even if it was unnecessary," I said with a soft smile, earning a twitch of the mouth from Fang.

"What's his deal anyway?" He was referring to the fact that he had stumbled upon me being cornered by a vicious Sam, who at the time was trying to mutilate any feeling in my wrist. I had been the cause of the cut on his forehead, but Fang was lucky enough to score the black eye.

"Same as Dylan. Psychotic ex-boyfriend," I admitted reluctantly.

"You sure know how to pick them," Fang remarked, smirking down at me as if he had just won some insane prize. I grumbled, shoving his shoulder. He didn't waste any time pushing me back.

"No need to remind me . . . Now, I vote we just leave him here. A janitor will stumble upon him eventually," I suggested.

"That seems kind of mean. He might need medical attention," Fang pointed out, always having to be the logical one. He just ruined all my fun. He was a fun-ruiner.

"Which is exactly why we should do it," I retorted, grinning wickedly.

He seemed to mull this over for a moment. After thinking about it, he smirked once more and with a nod of his head said; "Yeah, you're right. Let's go find Iggy and get you to the hospital."

"About that . . ."

"What?" he asked warily.

"I was wondering, if you had any time to spare . . . if you . . . um . . . could, you know . . . possibly drive us . . . back home. I only ask because Nudge's mom is working, and she can't give us a lift, and I obviously don't have a car . . . so . . ." I trailed off.

"It's no problem," he assured me, his face carefully blank.

"You're a life saver," I breathed in relief, smiling up at him.

He chuckled, smirking in that slightly cocky, condescending way of his. I wouldn't have it any other way though. It somehow made him . . . I don't know; _him_. Only Fang could pull something like that off and not be a total jerk.

"Dude, I've been looking for you everywhere!" Iggy crowed as we exited the building, finding him pacing on the front steps.

"Sorry, we got a little held up," Fang explained, and I was grateful that he didn't give away the whole situation. No need to blare the story around everywhere, after all. It would spread soon enough anyway.

"Whatever, just get me home. I need to get my homework done, then work on my special project before my parents get home." There was a maniacal glint in his eyes that had my eyebrows raising

"Don't ask," Fang warned with a shake of his head.

Once in the car, Iggy's effortless banter filled the would-be silence. He rambled on about some chemical explosion in the Science wing, that he swore had nothing to do with him . . . that time. He also took full credit for the stink bomb that detonated in the girls locker room, along with the eruption of the coffee maker in the teachers lounge. All of which happened in one day.

"That is so . . ." I mused, trying to think of the right word.

"Dangerous? Crazy? Suicidal?" Fang spouted off, rolling his eyes at Iggy.

"Cool," I finished, grinning. Fang groaned as Iggy whooped in delight, kind of like Gazzy did all the time. I had a feeling they would get along, what with their love of blowing things up. It didn't matter that Gazzy was eleven and Iggy was seventeen, they both acted like children no matter what their age.

"Alright, get out of my car before you poison her mind any further!" Fang commanded, pulling to a stop in front of Iggy's apartment.

Iggy chortled, slapping Fang on the shoulder. "See you, bro! Bye Max."

The next hour or so seemed to go by in a blur. We picked Gazzy up from school, much to his enjoyment, me withholding any comment on his possible expulsion. Then we drove back to the hospital, where the nurses were preparing Angel for her discharge. I could see her excitement growing, which meant I was happy as well. Finally, just as the sun was beginning to set, we pulled up in front of our apartment building.

I was helping Angel out of the car when Nudge came dashing out the door, tears in her eyes. She seemed extremely flustered and upset about something, so I handed Angel off to Fang before turning to face her.

"Nudge, what's wrong?" I demanded at the sight of her anxiety.

"I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry Max!" she cried, blubbering now as the tears washed down her face. "She just started freaking out. She was yelling at me, and screaming and I just didn't know . . ."

As she lapsed into sobs my heart constricted, panic setting in.

"It's okay Nudge. You can go home now. Every thing's going to be okay," I insisted, and she nodded, still having her slight anxiety attack. "Fang, stay here with Angel. Don't leave. Gazzy, come with me."

I turned to face the steps with a grim determination, Gazzy at my side with much the same look. This wasn't the first time things like this happened, and he knew what to expect.

When we entered the apartment we weren't met by the usual silence. There was a lot of loud thuds coming from Mom's room, following by an agonized scream that pierced the air like a bullet straight to my chest. I took one last deep breath before I pushed her door open, letting it fly back. It cracked against the wall sharply, gaining her attention.

"Max," she said raggedly, as if relieved I was there.

I made no comment, just stalked to her side. Gazzy began picking up the things she had thrown. A small picture frame here, a splintered cigarette tray there. Her rotten bedsheets were tangled around her limp form, twisted in and out. I methodically yanked them free, watching as she slumped pitifully to the mattress. I tossed the sheets aside, gathering up the comforter as well. I would throw them in the wash later. Gazzy was still busy sweeping up a sprinkling of shattered glass on the floor, careful not to cut himself.

"Max," Mom repeated, more insistently this time. I ignored her still, bending to help Gazzy. I knew it wouldn't be long until she started in again with her fit, outraged that I refused to acknowledge her.

"Max!" she screamed, her voice shrill but weak. I continued my silence, motioning for Gazzy to get the small trash can in the corner. He brought it to me without hesitation, his feet barely making a sound on the wood. I swept the glass shards into it, clamping down on my lip as a piece bit into my palm. A scarlet slash appeared, and I pressed it to my leg, ignoring the burning sensation.

"_Max_!" Mom called again, her voice even louder than before. When I didn't respond she let loose a chilling wail, followed by a loud 'bang'. I finally glanced up, watching as she slammed her head against the headboard again and again, all the while making that same horrifying noise in the back of her throat.

Once she ascertained that she had my attention, she stopped with her self-inflicted punishment, her dazed gaze settling on mine. Her face was gaunt and pale, from lack of sunlight and proper nutrition. Her eyes were hollow orbs, devoid of life. Her skinny limbs stuck out like twigs around her. The sight left me wanting to cringe, but I stayed my ground.

"I need . . ." she wheezed, suddenly exhausted. "I need more."

"Why?" My tone was low and cold, and I didn't miss the way she flinched from the icy-ness in my words. I kept my expression carefully blank, letting absolutely nothing show.

"Please, baby," she pleaded, sounding like a weak child. I felt tears prick in my eyes at the sound. This was my mother. She was supposed to be the one constant thing I could always count on, when in reality she had all but disappeared from my life. Looking at her now, I could tell that she was barely holding on. This creature in front of me hardly constituted as a human being.

"No." My voice was firm and uncaring.

I watched with no emotion as her eyes widened, tears filling the empty holes. They gushed forwards, spilling down her cheeks in an instant. I stood a few feet away, trying not to show how much this affected me. She sobbed openly, tremors wracking her small, frail body. She started screaming, screeching incoherently at me with as much malice as she could muster. The high-pitched yowls made me cringe.

She thrashed around on her bed, her limbs flailing like a child throwing a temper tantrum. Her hands knocked against the wall, cracking sharply, but she hardly seemed to notice. She rolled this way and that, kicking and screaming wildly, her words jumbling together so that I couldn't understand a thing she said. It was gibberish to my ears as she warbled, crying out as if she was in physical agony.

When she had hit her head so many times I could see the visible swelling, I managed to force my legs forward. I intervened easily, my hands clamping down on her arms harshly. I wrenched her to a stop. It didn't take much strength to hold her in place, but she put up a good fight. She struggled uselessly, but her foot nicked my stomach once, making me wince.

She was still bawling, howling out her sorrows at the top of her lungs. I tried to shush her, murmuring comforting words I didn't mean. She became still for a moment at the sound of my voice, before resuming her caterwauling.

"Stop. Shh, it's okay. Every thing's going to be okay," I mumbled, holding her tighter as she tried to break free of my grasp.

I knew that somewhere in the room Gazzy was standing off to the side, watching. It had to be traumatizing to see, but he always stayed, no matter how many times I told him not to. I usually made Angel lock herself in our bedroom when Mom went into her fits, but it was nice to have Gazzy there as back-up in case things got too ugly. He was my little trooper, after all.

Mom continued shrieking, blaring out obscenities as she struggled to free herself. She didn't stay still for a moment, always tugging against my hold. She utilized the use of her legs, kicking out at me. Most of the time she missed, but she managed to knee me in the groin. I gasped, keeling over. She pushed off with her legs, and I stumbled back, finally letting go. She resumed her tantrum, flinging herself around as she screamed her misery.

I felt my face heating, and a simmering started in the pit of my stomach. It began boiling up, and there was nothing I could do to stop the rage that suddenly engulfed me. We didn't deserve this, I realized with utter clarity. We shouldn't have to deal with this type of situation. Someone should have been there to stop it all, to shield us from the torture and the angst. This shouldn't have happened _at all_.

"Max?"

The voice didn't belong to my mother. I whirled around, my eyes narrowing. Fang was standing in the doorway, a shocked expression on his face. He tried to hide it, but it overwhelmed his defenses with ease.

Mom groaned, her distress growing. She moaned as her torment reached a new height. Some of her words came out clearer now, and I heard her repeating the same phrase over and over again. "I need more. Please, baby. I need more."

My head whipped back and forth between the two; Fang standing frozen at the door and Mom in the midst of her anguish. It was then that I snapped, emotions flooding through my mind, no matter how hard I fought to hold them back. I couldn't take this anymore.

"Stop it!" I thundered, rounding on my mother. She paused at the command in my voice, wincing at the hostility laced through. "Just sober up for once! Take a look at the damage you've cause!"

She looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. I didn't hang around to see what her response would be. I turned swiftly on my heel, stalking over to Fang. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him back down the hall with me. Angel was seated in the living room, her crutches at her side. She looked absolutely terrified, but I would deal with that later.

I shoved Fang out the door, slamming it shut behind me. I stood across from him in the hall, my breathing harsh and labored. My anger had been increased ten-fold at the still aghast expression he wore.

"I told you to wait outside," I hissed, clenching my teeth to stop myself from raising my voice. The hallway was dim as a light farther down stuttered before flickering out, losing all its power.

Fang stayed silent, still too appalled to say a word.

"You should have just done what I said," I snarled, balling my hands into fists. "If you had-" 

I didn't get a chance to finish. Fang gripped my forearms in his, slamming me roughly against the wall. I was too stupefied to move. Before I could utter another word his head swooped in, his lips attacking my own. Every thought filtered out of my head in a rush, and there was just this gaping blank in its place.

It took a moment for my thoughts to catch up to me, and when they did I realized I was kissing him back. Slowly, unsure of myself, I raised my hands, placing them around his neck; pulling him closer. My fingers tangled in his dark hair, the locks twisting around my fingers like silk. He was pressed up against me, so close there wasn't a centimeter between us. It wasn't enough though. Our heads turned, moving this way and that, both intent on bringing us as close as possible.

Finally he pulled away, resting his forehead on mine. My breathing was labored, and so was his. The wall in his eyes had been replaced, no emotions escaping. He was smiling though. For the first time, he was really smiling; his lips upturned and his perfect teeth flashing in the dark. It made my head spin, even more so than the kiss had.

He leaned down again, his lips brushing against mine. I started to panic, the reasons why we shouldn't, _couldn't_, be together like this running through my mind. I was confused. Liking him in such a . . . romantic way had never occurred to me. It had always been us just being friends.

I turned my head sharply, shoving against his chest. He stumbled back, bewilderment clear in his eyes. I ducked my head, afraid to meet his gaze. I stuttered for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"I-" I couldn't bring myself to say anything else. I turned away, slipping back into the apartment.

When I closed the door tightly, a crushing weight settled on my heart, knowing I was leaving him on the other side.

**Authors Note: Quite a bit to take in, I suppose. Tell me what you thought in a review! There was finally some Fax shoved in there, haha. Satisfied?**


	17. Revealed

**Authors Note: I was going to hold off on updating until tomorrow, but how could I after the strong reaction to the last chapter? I had a feeling it would spur some reviews out of everybody (:**

**To address some anonymous reviews;**

**Ari: Yes, they are soulmates! And to you it might have been random, but it was very meticulously planned on my part. Also; Max did usually get it, but only because she knew what would happen if she didn't.**

**Alikana: Thanks! I appreciate that (: **

**Chapter Seventeen:**

_**Revealed**_

I layed in my bed, taking in the silence. If I stayed unfocused, there wasn't anything to be heard. It was like this immense rushing in my ears, devoid of any sounds. I found myself locked in the strange peace.

It wasn't long though, before the noises of reality began creeping back in. The low thrum of vehicles outside my window. The muffled static of the television, where I know Gazzy sat with Angel at his side.

With the rapidly approaching dusk, as proven by the settling darkness in my room, I knew my time to myself was coming to an abrupt end. Soon I would have to drag myself out of bed, where I had comfortably been sitting for the majority of the day. I had told Angel and Gazzy it was due to a headache, but what I really needed was some time to think.

Everything had been happening in such a whirl. First Angel's accident, which had us on an even tighter budget than previously. Then Gazzy's trouble-making at school, which I had yet to address. Not to mention another one of Mom's fits, at exactly the wrong time. There was of course the touchy subject of a certain almost-stranger to worry about as well.

It was all too pressing to ignore, and one 'sick' day in bed wasn't enough to rejuvenate me. I was still too tired to even think straight. I would have to suck it up though, because there was somewhere I needed to be tonight.

Slowly I sat up, rubbing my stinging eyes. I rolled over to my side, burying my face in my pillow for a second. Finally, I managed to pry myself away from its comforting embrace. I stumbled across the room, changing into a different pair of clothes sluggishly. I hastily slapped my hair into a ponytail to keep it out of my eyes, before resolutely turning to the door. I opened it before I could change my mind, and shuffled out into the blinding light of the living room.

"Feeling better?" Gazzy asked, looking up from where he was playing a card game with Angel. She appeared to be winning, and not for the first time I wondered if she could read minds. She was extremely intuitive for a nine year old.

"Yeah," I replied lamely, lying through my teeth. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice.

When I turned to the kitchen though, Angel's concerned eyes were still trained on me. I gave her an assuring smile over my shoulder, but she didn't seem to buy it. She let me be though, resuming her game. Her hurt leg was propped up on a pillow, and I frowned at the sight of her being so broken.

I downed a glass of water, relishing in the way it felt sliding down my scratchy throat. I gulped down a bit more of it, before I placed my glass in the sink. There was a pile of dirty dishes already accumulating there. I would have to get to them when I had time. I had learned the hard way not to ask Gazzy to do it, and Angel wasn't really in any shape to be doing chores.

"I'm going out, guys," I called to them as I slipped my shoes on.

"Where?" Gazzy inquired, peering curiously at me over the edge of the couch. His blonde curls were matted, sticking up in different directions like he had just woken up.

"Some Fight Night special," I replied, shrugging into a jacket that had been draped across the back of a chair.

"But I thought you didn't feel well. You shouldn't be fighting," he insisted, and I had to hold back a smile at his concern.

"I'm doing okay now, and besides, Jared is counting on me to come," I lied, not seeing any other way around it.

"Tell him your sick. He'll understand."

I suppressed a sigh, my tone softening. "I have to go, and that's that. Now be good, and don't blow anything up. Make sure you watch your sister. If she needs something get it. Don't give her any sass."

"I don't have sass," Gazzy said in disgust, his nose wrinkling.

"Sure you don't." I rolled my eyes, ruffling his hair. I waved to Angel as I walked to the door, and she grinned back at me, her blue eyes shining. Gazzy still seemed a bit mortified, and I just shook my head before exiting the apartment.

When I walked outside I was pleasantly surprised to see Jared waiting for me, his car running. I gave him a questioning look as he beckoned me forwards. I climbed in regardless, buckling my seat belt at his stern glare. 

"Took you long enough," he teased, revving the engine.

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was on a time schedule."

"I know, but I figured you could use a ride. You really need a car Max," he informed me nonchalantly, one hand on the wheel.

"Yeah, because I could afford that." What a ridiculous idea.

"Speaking of which-" he began, but I cut him off hurriedly. I really didn't want to get into a chat about my financial crisis due to Angel's accident.

"I don't want to talk about it," I insisted, glaring at him.

He sighed, giving me a look of his own, but he shut up about it, for which I was thankful. It really wasn't that bad, to tell the truth. We still owed the hospital a few hundred, but the man who hit Angel had agreed to cover most of the costs so we wouldn't sue. Since I really didn't want to go through all that, I had agreed. Our rent was due in a few weeks though, which was what I was more nervous about.

"So are you ready for tonight?" he asked, changing the subject. I had to bite back the retort I wanted to make, which was the brutal, honest truth.

"Yup," I said instead, relaxing against the seat. I tried not to show how groggy I was, but I think he noticed. He refrained from making a comment though, knowing how stubborn I was.

"It won't be a hard night. Probably just a bunch of drunks thinking they can beat you."

"I don't want to stay too long though," I admitted. I may be in dire need of cash, but I knew better than to push my limits too far. I could probably stand an hour or so, but not much longer.

"This is all up to you," Jared reminded me, coming to a stop at a red light. "If you don't want to do this, I can take you home."

I just shook my head, lapsing into silence. I rested against the window, closing my eyes as I thought. What I really needed was a good nights sleep. Anything to take my mind off of things, even if it's just for awhile . . . Usually, Fang was able to do that without even trying, but that was obviously screwed up.

I bit my lip at the thought of him. There were so many mixed emotions running haywire in my mind. In truth, I didn't really know him that well. We had just met not that long ago . . . so why did he seem so familiar? Why did I trust him, when I couldn't anyone else?

And more importantly, why did it feel so _right _when he had kissed me?

It's safe to say I had steered clear of him the last few days. After I had left him standing in that hallway, I hadn't talked to him since. Sure, he had been waiting outside the gym a couple of times, wanting to see me, but I just ignored him. He seemed to sense that I needed time to think, so he let me be, but I didn't know how much longer that was going to last. He wasn't going to stay away forever.

"We're here," Jared announced, breaking me from my reverie. My eyes snapped open, and I glanced around warily. We were parked in some sidelong, dark alley. Ahead I could see a fence, and a small opening in it. I figured that was how we were getting in.

"Ready?" Jared asked, misinterpreting my examination for hesitation.

"Yeah, I'm good. Let's go."

I hopped out of the car before he could get another word in. He followed me silently, locking the doors as we walked away. I ducked under the fence, hearing him mimic me shortly after. I paused to wait, and he joined me, standing at my side. He flashed me a quick glance, but I studiously glared ahead, motioning for him to lead the way.

We crossed another street, then through yet another desolate alley. The end of it was in shadows, well concealed. When we got closer though, the man sitting in front of it was clear.

"Hey," he said gruffly, his voice deep and his steady gaze strong.

I stepped forward without a word, looking him straight in the eye. Vaguely I heard Jared talking to him, gaining our entry. After a moment the man gave a short nod, giving us permission to pass. He moved aside, revealing a dark, covered doorway.

I didn't wait for Jared, smoothly entering. I could sense him behind me, staying close. This part of town was mostly old warehouses that nobody used anymore. From where I was standing, my view was obstructed by one of the towering monsters.

"Keep going," Jared instructed. "It's a bit farther down."

I nodded wordlessly, which just sent a pang through my chest as I thought of Fang and his blank stares. God, I needed to get a grip on myself. Through my musings I didn't realize we had arrived until Jared was pushing through a door, and the loud shouts and smells of beer and sweat reached me.

Here we go again.

**Authors Note: Short and a MAJOR filler. I'm sorry! Especially after last chapter, I know this was probably a bit of a let-down. Review anyway? It doesn't have to be much, considering this chapter didn't contain much.**


	18. Crumble

**Authors Note: So from your reviews I know most people wanted to read more about Max fighting, but every time I tried to write it . . . It just wasn't coming out right. Look at it this way; that's one less chapter you have before the Faxness (:**

**Chapter Eighteen:**

_**Crumble**_

The most dreaded words in my little brothers vocabulary were; 'Gazzy, can I talk to you?' and they were about to be put into ploy. I didn't particularly want to have this chat either, but it seemed I had to, considering I couldn't rely on Fang to do it anymore.

"Yeah Max?" he asked, gulping. His eyes were wide and scared as I glared at him sternly.

"Sit down," I ordered, motioning to a kitchen chair. He complied quickly, scurrying over as soon as the words left my mouth. I continued to stare at him, my expression a mixture of anger and disappointment. He shrunk back under my scrutiny, biting his lip.

"What is it?" he inquired, his voice shaky.

"I got a call," I started, beginning to pace. "From your school. They're saying you've been acting up in class, and I-"

Gazzy sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "Wasn't asking Fang to chew me out enough for you?" he demanded, mumbling into his shirt. I stopped my agitated pacing, glancing over at him in surprise.

"What?"

"Fang told me you asked him to talk to me about it, remember?"

"When did you see Fang?" I exclaimed, my mouth gaping. This was news to me. I figured with me avoiding him, he wouldn't care about what he had promised to do for me.

"A few days ago. He picked me up from school and took me over to his house. We played games for awhile, and then he got all serious and gave me a talk about not getting into trouble," he explained.

"I thought you went to Danny's that day."

"That's what he told me to tell you," Gazzy admitted sheepishly. "Now that I think about it, that was a little strange . . . but I didn't think you'd care either way. I mean, it's Fang."

"Yeah . . ." I said thoughtfully, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Fang."

"You're not mad at him now, are you? Oh please, don't tell him I told you! He'll be so angry with me," Gazzy pleaded earnestly, and I gave him a smile.

"Don't worry," I assured him. "Your secret's save with me."

"Thanks Max!" he shouted, jumping up from his seat. He sprinted out of the room, diving onto the living room floor since the couch was occupied by Angel. I smirked, following him, albeit a bit more slowly.

He cuddled up with a pillow and blanket, watching the TV intently. After a few minutes he dashed out of the room, disappearing into mine. I rolled my eyes, not really in the mood to worry about his behavior.

"He's probably doing something that's going to get him in trouble," Angel said knowingly.

"Probably," I agreed, ruffling her hair.

There was a moment of silence then, as I contemplated some of the more pressing matters at hand. Angel seemed to sense I needed some time to think, as always reading my mind like an open book. She turned her attention back to the TV, flipping through the channels.

I studied my hand very intently, lost in thought. Ever since Gazzy had mentioned Fang talking to him, there was this nagging in the pit of my stomach. A part of me was grumbling that I should go and tell him how I really felt . . . as if I knew what that was in the first place. I was still too confused about him.

"Fang really likes you," Angel informed me nonchalantly, and I glanced up sharply to see her studying me with a keen look in her wide blue eyes.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as if it was nothing.

"He cares about you, Max. He wants you to be happy."

"I am happy," I replied, my brow furrowing. How could she know all of this?

"No you're not," she insisted calmly, looking the least bit fazed. "And you won't be, not until you go and tell him you want to be with him too. Not until he's in your life again."

"How do you know all of this?" I demanded, struggling to ease my anger. This wasn't Angel's fault. She was just strangely informed.

"I see the way he looks at you. Like the lady down the hall looks at the man from downstairs. She's in love with him, just like Fang's in love with you." Her tone was eerie, slinking easily under my skin.

"Did he tell you that?" I inquired.

"No, but it's obvious. He loves you."

"That's some fantasy you've got there Ange, but it's not true. Fang couldn't love someone like me. _He doesn't_." It hurt to admit, but it was true nonetheless. He was a spoiled rich kid, and I hadn't put myself first once in my entire life.

"You're never going to know if you just sit here, in denial."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" I rolled my eyes, some of my tension easing.

"Go talk to him," she said firmly, her expression docile and placid. "Make him listen to what you have to say. I'm sure he'll be all ears."

"Would you stop annoying me about it if I did?" I questioned petulantly, realizing I had already made up my mind.

"I make no promises," she said with a cocky grin.

I groaned, bashing my head into the couch cushions. She giggled at my theatrics. Finally I managed to pull myself to a stand. I glanced at her, seeing the smug expression on her face. I rolled my eyes again, nudging her with my elbow gently enough not to disturb any of her broken body parts. She laughed again, her baby blue eyes dancing with enthusiasm.

"Gazzy!" I shouted, and there was a muffled thump. I smacked my forehead, trying not to look too in-depth. I would worry about it later.

"Huh?" he asked, appearing in the hall. His hair was a tousled mess, and he was hiding his hands behind his back.

My eyes narrowed of their own accord, and he shrunk back slightly, giving me a timid, nervous smile. "I have to run and do something real quick. I need you to keep an eye on Angel."

"Oh," he said hurriedly. "Sure thing. Bye now."

"Gazzy-" I started reproachfully.

"Don't worry. I'll take great care of her. I'll be her personal slave, just like you always say. Scurry along. You don't want to be late, do you?" he demanded, fidgeting as he cut me off.

I ground my teeth together, suppressing all my urges to tell him off. By now he was well aware of what constituted to trouble in this household, and he defied it all the same. Rules didn't really register to him.

"Fine," I folded grudgingly, "but this building better be in one piece when I get back."

"Of course." He was really getting anxious now, shooting glances back the way he had come.

"I'm dead serious," I said in warning, and he nodded furiously before dashing away. I sighed, shaking my head sadly. I turned to face Angel, saying; "Keep an eye on him, will you?"

"I'll do my best," she agreed, grinning.

"Right," I said. "I won't be long. I'm just going to jog over to Iggy's."

"Okay!" she exclaimed brightly. "Good luck."

I rolled my eyes for the hundredth that day, making my way to the door. I bit back the comment I really wanted to make, which would probably crush her every dream, and we couldn't have that now could we?

I immersed myself in thought as I walked down the street, popping my hood over my head as I shivered in the cold air. I would have to take Angel and Gazzy shopping at some point for winter clothes. Most of their old stuff was ripped and torn to shreds. I closed my eyes a bit, taking a deep breath. I would have to pace myself. Expenses were going to come up. I would have to deal with that without arousing suspicion.

The minutes slipped away, along with the pavement beneath my feet. It didn't seem long at all before I came upon Iggy's apartment building. I marveled yet again at how we had gone to school together for so long, yet I had never noticed the trouble-maker before. You'd think I would have keyed in to all the 'explosive' stories circulating through the gossip vine.

I slipped inside, shuddering at the sudden warmth. The change from outside was drastic. The transition of seasons was really under-way, and I hated that. Snow irked me to no end. I'd much rather the heat.

I pushed those thoughts aside though, as I climbed the last set of stairs. Slowly I made my way down the hall, stopping in front of the door with the shiny number _'eleven' _on it in bronzed metal. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself. Finally I forced my hand to raise, hovering over the worn and chipped wood. I was just about to knock when it flew open, disappearing beneath my palm.

Fang was standing on the other side, his hair as perfectly messy as always. He had a jacket slung across his shoulder and his car keys in his hand. When he caught sight of me his eyes widened just the tiniest bit. In other words, he was _seriously _surprised.

"Max?" he asked.

"I was hoping you were here," I admitted, smiling slightly. "I need to talk to you."

He ran a hand through his hair, muttering something that sounded like a curse under his breath. "Look, I have somewhere to be right now. Can we talk later?"

"What?" I was dumbfounded. He had tailed me for days, demanding to speak with me, and now that I was ready he didn't . . . want to? God, was he sending mixed signals or what?

"I'm sorry. I really am. But I'm running late enough as it is. I have to go." He pushed past me, his expression clear as he looked briefly at me with that same blank stare.

"But-" I began heatedly, my anger growing. I reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing him to a stop. He glowered at me for a moment before he wiped all the emotion from his face.

"We'll talk later," he insisted, yanking free from my grasp. He turned his back on me, walking at a brisk pace down the hall. He rounded the corner, never once looking back. I heard every one of his foot-falls as he thundered down the stairs, each a dagger in my gut.

"Hey Max!" Iggy exclaimed cheerfully from his doorway. "I thought I heard your voice."

"Yeah," I mumbled, trying for a smile. It came out more of a grimace though, and I was thankful he couldn't see. He did, however, detect the dejected sound in my voice, and his brow furrowed in concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing," I replied, shaking my head. "Just tell Fang, whenever the heck he gets back, that I said never mind. I don't want to talk to him . . . _Ever_."

Iggy's eyes widened in what I took to be horror. "Come on, Max! Don't be all stubborn. He really was in a hurry. He had to be somewhere important, and if it was anything _but _that he would have blown the whole thing off for yo-"

"I have to go," I said, interrupting his speech. "I'll see you around, Igs."

I turned before he could get another word in, my expression hard. I walked away, my shoulders held high . . . not that my only audience member could see my brave retreat. No, instead I sauntered away, unseen by anybody, with my pride held intact . . .

Even as I felt it crumble from within.

**Authors Note: I'm sure you must have something to say about that, so drop me a review. Please? (:**


	19. Addictive

**Authors Note: School's going to be starting in a few days, and that means slower updates. I'll have practice every day after school, so the only time I'll have to write for a few months, just until the season's over, is the weekend. I'm sorry. I'll do my best to keep up with the speed I've been updating, but I won't make any promises. Anyway, read on.**

**Chapter Nineteen:**

_**Addictive**_

"Are you feeling okay?" Jared inquired, staring at me, his eyes brimming with concern. "You seem a bit distracted."

"Huh . . .? Oh, yeah. I'm fine," I assured him, his voice snapping me out of my daze. Every particle of my mind was preoccupied with thoughts I didn't necessarily want to dwell on.

"Okay, there is _definitely _something wrong with you." He seemed incredibly certain of himself as he pursed his lips, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His glare was demanding an honest response.

"What do you mean?" I feigned innocence, hoping he would just back off. I usually didn't keep things from Jared, but some things were better left unsaid. Some things should be secret.

"You said you were fine without an eye roll _or _an annoyed sigh. Obviously, something's going on if you're not being _Max_," he replied, his eyes staying narrowed as he stared at me, waiting for an explanation that would ease all his worries.

. . . Waiting on an explanation that would never come.

"_I'm fine_," I said emphatically, making sure to throw in an over-dramatic rolling of the eyes _and _a heaving sigh, filled to the brim with annoyance at his concern.

I managed to draw out a tiny smirk, which eventually turned into a full-blown grin at my theatrics. Most of the time, Jared was easy to soothe. He had his moments in which he trusted what I said without restraint, making no judgements or objections.

"Better?" I inquired, smiling in return as the solemn air surrounding us drifted away, filtering in the stench of the gym instead. I found the smell kind of . . . comforting. It was something normal; something set in stone. There would always be little bits of it lingering, no matter how much I scrubbed and sprayed air-freshener. It was something to believe in, when everything else was wavering.

"I suppose so," he finally conceded, punching me in the arm. I slugged him right back, and it eventually turned into a teasing fight as we circled one another like predators on the hunt. My surroundings started clicking into place, and I playfully lunged at Jared, swiping at his shoulder. He twisted away, ducking under my fist.

"Scared?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

"Of course not," he said, grunting as I tackled him. We both crashed to the ground, rolling into a complicated ball of intertwined limbs.

"Well this is awkward," I muttered, my face inches from his. I was pretty sure I was glowing a beat-red. It probably matched the shocking shade of his face. The intimate position was seriously throwing both of us off.

"I'd say so," he mumbled, not meeting my gaze.

I managed to retract my arm from under his back, sliding my leg out from where it was tangled with his. I slid across the floor, rolling away. I paused to catch my breath before I jumped fluidly to my feet.

"Need some help?" I asked, seeing Jared still sprawled out on the floor. I walked over, holding out a hand. He took it gratefully, and I hauled him up. He stumbled slightly, before righting himself.

There was an awkward silence then, seeming deafening in the mostly empty gym. Finally though, I couldn't take it anymore, and I burst out laughing. He joined me almost instantaneously, guffawing along. By the end of our hysterics, I was clutching my side from the pain of our laughter. I stopped first, and gradually Jared's chuckling subsided as well.

"Now that that's over," Jared began, shaking his head, "what should we do?"

"I don't know. I have to work tonight. Maybe we should just end it here for today," I suggested. It was a mildly productive training session, I suppose. Nothing special. Mostly just us, being friends, which was what we did best.

"You don't have long to prepare, you know. The big fight is literally just around the corner," Jared reminded me, his expression suddenly serious.

"Next week, actually," I stated, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah. So shouldn't you want to practice for as long as possible?" he demanded.

"Please don't start with that whole 'practice makes perfect' crap. I'm not ever going to be perfect. Nobody is. I know when I'm ready, and I know when I'm not. Trust me when I say I can do this. I'd be ready tomorrow. Heck, why don't we make it right now?" I insisted defiantly.

"Alright, alright; I get it! You're Maximum, and you can do anything."

"Exactly. I'm glad we've come to an understanding," I said with a small smile.

He rolled his eyes, patting my shoulder. "You know what else is coming up in a week?"

My happy spirits dropped, the smile slipping from my face. It was replaced with a petulant frown, almost indiscernible to the human eye. I shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, glaring at the floor stonily.

"I'm aware," I muttered.

"And what's the status on that?" Jared's voice was shaky; concerned. He could tell all was not well by my reaction to his words.

"Every thing's fine." Who was I kidding? I was lying through my teeth, and Jared knew it too.

"Max," he started reproachfully, his tone scolding.

"It's okay, I promise. I'll have the money in time, I know it." I tried to sound assuring, but in truth I wasn't all that sure. Nothing was as matter-of-fact about this situation as I was letting on.

"Are you positive?" Jared asked. "Because you know we can always lend you the money."

I knew my voice would give me away, so I just nodded mutely. Actions speak louder than words, as they do say.

I could tell he didn't really believe me, but he let the conversation slide away. We didn't speak as I watched him gather his things. When he finally straightened up he was wearing his smile again, much to my relief.

"Tomorrow. You'll be here." It wasn't a question.

I rolled my eyes at his authority, but agreed without complaint. He was all for being prepared. It was a different story entirely when I had been worried awhile ago. At that time he didn't see what I had to be concerned about. Now it seemed our roles were reversed.

"Need a lift?" he asked, although he already knew my answer before the words left his mouth.

"Nope," I replied, shrugging. He managed to reign in his exasperated sigh.

"I anticipated as much," he said, waving as he exited the ring. I smirked, not making another comment. Eventually, I heard the door slam shut behind him, which was my cue to get to work now that no one was around.

I scrubbed and swept as quickly as I could, mopping up any suspicious stains. I was able to hold in my gags, wrinkling my nose at some of the nastier ones. After only a little more than an hour I placed my things back in their place, making my way to the main office.

When I got there I peeked my head inside. Leroy was nowhere to be found, so I locked up as usual, flicking all the lights off before I left. Everything was seemingly normal as I began my trek home. Peace like that, though, didn't last.

I was only a few blocks away when my hands started to tingle, and there was a prickling at the nape of my neck. I swatted at a bug flying around my brow, trying to act calm. I waited to see if the sense would go away, but it remained, like a gruesome haze around me.

It was at that moment that the foot-steps came into hearing range. They were quick, brisk; slapping on the pavement deliberately, and with a quick succession. I was torn between running in the case that I really was being pursued, or risking capture. For all I knew, it was just some random person in a hurry to get somewhere. It may not have anything to do with me.

I got my answer when a hand came from behind, snaking around my waist. The other clapped across my mouth, muffling the strangled cry I let loose as soon as it came in contact with my skin.

"Shh," someone whispered in my ear. Their voice was familiar. Fang? I couldn't tell. My mind was on hyper-drive, working too fast for me to think straight, coherent thoughts.

I relaxed anyway, figuring it couldn't be that bad.

"I just want to talk to you," they went on, still holding me close. "Honest."

I tried to speak, but they refused to move their hand from my mouth. Smart move. I nodded instead, my head bobbing up and down. Slowly, with extreme caution, they removed their palm. I sucked in a breath, my body quivering with barely suppressed adrenaline. I didn't make a sound, so the hand hovering near my face dropped down again.

Before I could blink I was whipped around with blinding speed. My back was pressed against the cold cement of a building, seeping under my clothes with an icy chill. Two arms were restraining me, locking me in a tight hold. When I glanced at my captor, my breath caught in my throat and I immediately wanted to lash out.

"_Dylan_," I hissed, not masking the abhorrence in my tone. He flinched slightly.

"I just want to talk," he said again, and I detected sincerity in his voice.

"What could you possibly have to say to me?" I demanded, struggling to break free. Dylan always was rather strong though, and if I was being truthful, I kind of wanted to know what brought this on.

"Please, Max. Just give me a minute to explain."

"Explain what?" I snarled, getting right up in his face. "Why you tried to _kill _me, perhaps?"

"I wasn't going to kill you," he said softly, his turquoise blue eyes smoldering. I was surprised at how calm he was. Dylan had a temper that rivaled my own. It wasn't like him to take my jabs so easily.

"You pulled a gun on me!" I shouted vehemently. "Your finger was hovering over the freaking trigger!"

"I wasn't actually going to shoot you."

"Yes," I replied coldly, "you were."

"No I wasn't," he insisted, growing frantic.

"Ye-" I began, but he cut me off.

"Just shut up, alright?" he growled, his voice growing louder as he spoke. "You don't know anything about what I did. You can't see inside my head, so stop acting like you know why I did it!"

"Then why did you?" My voice was low in contrast to his, set at a deadly level.

"To get your attention," he murmured, bringing his face closer to mine. My eyes widened and I pressed myself tightly against the wall, trying to put as much space between us as possible.

"Why?" I asked, although I had a sick feeling that I already knew what he was going to say.

"Because I love you, Max. We're perfect together. I know we broke up awhile ago, but I never stopped being attracted to you. I find everything about you so _addictive_," he whispered huskily, placing his lips at my ear.

"Dylan, stop!" I commanded, pushing against his chest. He didn't back away, just held me tighter. I wouldn't be surprised if his fingers left bruises.

"Why?" he repeated my question from before, placing wet, sloppy kisses against my neck. I recoiled in revulsion, my face screwing up as I tried to wrestle free from his grip.

Slowly, his mouth traveled to my jaw. He moved so that every part of his body was pressed against mine. I shuddered in disgust, and by the sudden heat with which he was kissing my neck, I could tell he mistook if for a shiver of pleasure.

"Get off me!" I screamed, struggling harder, but he continued on as if he hadn't heard. I continued to howl at him, trying everything to break free. My hands, however were uselessly pinned to my sides and my legs were restrained by Dylan's. I couldn't fight my way free, and he was moving closer and closer to my own lips.

"She said let her go."

The new voice pierced the night like a knife, poised and deadly.

**Authors Note: Cliffhanger? I think you should review then. Please? I don't know how soon I'll update. I'll try to get to it before school starts, but once again, I make no promises.**


	20. Feather

**Authors Note: I enjoyed the amount of reviews I got for the last chapter**_**. A lot**_**. So I decided to update a day earlier than I was originally planning. Tomorrow is officially my last day of summer vacation. I could cry! That means no more days spent wasted reading/writing FF. *Sigh* **

**Remember, updates may start coming slower. Just a warning. I still haven't worked out the details on that yet. I doubt it'll come to it. If everything works out, I might just publish the chapters as normal. Fuuun (:**

**Chapter Twenty:**

_**Feather**_

Dylan turned his head in surprise, his focus leaving me momentarily. I took that as my chance to wrestle free from him, as his grip loosened slightly at the disturbance. I wrestled my leg free from his, kneeing him in the groin. He sucked in a breath, stumbling back. I brought my fist around in a wide arc. His nose made a sickening crack as I punched him.

After that he buckled to the ground, and thankfully stayed there, moaning. He must have still been a little weak from before. Even so, I sent another well aimed kick to his side, smirking at the sound of his ribs splintering. Now he could feel my pain.

I turned my head to see Fang glowering, just off the sidewalk. His hands were balled into fists at his side, and he looked murderous. At that moment he was only glaring at Dylan, but when he sensed my gaze his eyes flickered up to mine.

I whirled around without a word, shuffling off into the night. My dilemma with Dylan was over, and I had no interest in speaking with him, regardless of whether or not he had distracted Dylan long enough for me to break free. I was still mad that he had blown me off so coldly.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I sensed, more than heard, him following me. Fang was just like that. Everything about him was silent. Even the way he moved, gliding through the air without so much as a single sound.

I continued to ignore him all the same, stalking along, my expression furious. I could feel my anger building, like a volcano preparing to explode. My day had turned crappy pretty quickly.

"Max."

His low, controlled voice broke the growing breach of silence between us. His tone was blank, giving away nothing. He didn't even seem angry anymore. He was back to his 'I shall show no emotion' rule.

I kept walking, pretending I hadn't heard. I guess Iggy hadn't given him my message. I thought I had been pretty clear on the _'ever' _part.

"Max, stop!" he insisted, fury marring his tone. At least something was breaking through his cold exterior, slipping through the few cracks in his mask.

Once he realized I still wasn't going to respond he groaned in frustration. I smirked slightly to myself, glad I was making him anxious. Let's see how he felt when he was ignored.

"Max, quit being stubborn," he growled, his hand closing around my forearm. He yanked me to a halt, pulling me close to him.

"Let me go," I said through gritted teeth, resisting against his hold. I hated to admit it, but he was way stronger than me, though. My attempts were futile.

"Not until you tell me why you're avoiding me," he insisted, gripping both of my shoulders in his hands now. I refused to meet his gaze, turning my cheek to the side so I couldn't look at him.

"I don't owe you an explanation," I snarled, my eyes narrowing.

"Yes you do. I saved your life, remember?" he pointed out haughtily, but there was a deadly edge to his tone that blossomed a small prick of fear in the pit of my stomach. "And I'm pretty sure if I hadn't come along now, you'd have been in even bigger trouble."

"I could have handled Dylan just fine without you," I lied. "He wasn't going to hurt me."

"No, he was just forcing himself on you," Fang retaliated, his voice strained.

"Why do you even care?" I spat bitterly.

"I care," he said, his voice softening. "A lot."

"Then let me go!" I exclaimed, tugging my body away from his again. He held me firmly in place though, and I barely moved an inch. God, why wouldn't he just go away? It wasn't like I was that important to him anyway.

"Not until you talk to me." There was an almost indiscernible vulnerability in the way he spoke that had me pausing in my attempts to escape.

"I did try to talk to you," I whispered, finally looking at him. His face was that same expressionless mask that I had become accustomed to, but ever so slowly the hard, blank look in his eyes began to disappear, letting some emotions leak through. "You didn't seem too keen on listening to what I had to say, though. You didn't care at all."

He gave me another one of his searching gazes, like he was staring straight into my soul. It was unnerving the way he could read me, as if I didn't have any secrets he didn't know. I was perfectly aware though, that there was _a lot_ about me he had yet to discover. Most of it being things I was unwilling to share.

Without any warning his hand left my shoulder, moving up to rest on the side of my face. The other he placed at the back of my neck, tangling in my hair. I only had a second to catch my breath before he was gently pulling me towards him. I stepped closer without thinking it through properly. His close proximity was making my brain fuzzy, starting and stopping in spurts. I wasn't to be held responsible for my actions.

Before I could do anything else his mouth was on mine, making my stomach do weird somersaults. His lips were soft, like the barest whisper of a feather, and they made the rest of my body tingle at their touch.

My last coherent thought was; 'he's got to quit catching me by surprise like that!' before the dazed, cloudy bliss of pure _Fang _took over my entire mind, making anything else but kissing him back with as much force as I could muster impossible.

"Don't say I don't care _ever _again," Fang whispered against my lips, breathing deeply. I think I might have nodded mutely, sucking in as much air as I could in the time allotted, before he was kissing me again. It was like he was taking all his unsaid feelings, and showing me in the only way he could. I couldn't say is method wasn't accurate. It got the job done, that's for sure.

There was only one person I could think of that could ruin a moment like this, so it only seemed plausible that they would come staggering around the corner at that exact time.

"What the hell?" Dylan shouted, unmasked fury in his voice.

I glanced over sharply, taking in his appearance. He looked no better than when I had left him, curled up on the ground, only a few minutes ago . . . though it seemed like forever since that had occurred. He was holding his side as he painfully approached us, every step most likely sending a pang through his ribs. His nose was bruised and swollen, dried blood painting a trail down his chin.

"Haven't I beaten you up enough for one day?" I demanded in exasperation, still wrapped up in Fang's arms. His hold tightened around me automatically as he shuffled to the side, pulling me to him protectively.

"You have about ten seconds to get your hands off my girl, King," Dylan growled, completely ignoring my biting remark.

"I think she's made it perfectly clear that she's _not _your girl," Fang sneered, smirking darkly. There was a look in his eye that I had never seen, and I found my lips tugging down at the corners at the sight of it.

"Why would she want you?" Dylan roared, his hands balling into fists. "All you have to offer is money, and I know Max. She doesn't take charity."

"Because she'd so much rather be with the guy who threatened to kill her," Fang scoffed, hugging me to his chest. "I know Max. She's not _stupid_."

"Quit talking about me like I'm not standing right here!" I exploded, my voice ringing above theirs. Fang's gaze snapped down to mine, and even Dylan turned his eyes to me, as if seeing me there for the first time. In fact, it was like both of them had just all of a sudden noticed I was witnessing their feud.

Fang stayed silent, but Dylan muttered, "Sorry babe," which only intensified my anger.

"I'm going to say this next part very clearly, and you better get the picture," I said scathingly. "Both of you."

Fang raised an eyebrow, which in his own way meant he was kind of surprised. Dylan was still busy trying to control his fury, but he nodded for me to continue when he felt me glaring at him.

"Dylan; we broke up over two years ago, because I came to realize you're a psychotic monster. I don't want anything to do with you, you got that? Do us all a favor and stay out of my life."

I saw him grit his teeth, his eyes bulging. The vein in his neck was pulsing uncontrollably, and I knew he was close to a meltdown . . . which was dangerous for anybody in close proximity.

"And Fang," I continued, as if I hadn't noticed Dylan, "I don't need protected, alright? I'm tough enough to take care of myself, and if we're going to try this 'relationship' thing, then you need to understand that."

"Of course," he said, smirking. I think me saying we were in a relationship, if that was what you could call it, secretly pleased him more than he was letting on.

"Now where's your car? I need to be getting home."

"Around that corner," he admitted sheepishly, rubbing his neck. "I was planning on ambushing you, since I figured you'd walk by sooner or later, but when I heard you yell I came to see what was going on."

"I'm going to choose to overlook that," I muttered, smiling up at him. The corner of his mouth lifted a bit, making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, though I hate to admit it.

He slung an arm over my shoulder as we walked away, leaving Dylan standing awestruck and more than slightly confused in our dust. He peered down at me to gouge my reaction, seeing if I would object to his affection. I swallowed down my initial response, which was to flip him clean over my shoulder, instead settling on a small smile.

"You're timing is actually kind of perfect," Fang commented as I climbed into the passenger seat of his car.

"How so?" I asked, settling in comfortably.

"I was going to take Iggy, just so I wouldn't be too bored, but bringing you would be so much better," he continued, only furthering my bewilderment. "At least we can get that out of the way."

"What are you talking about?" I gave him a puzzled look, and he smirked as his eyes briefly met mine.

"My mom likes to host dinner parties every once and awhile. She invites all our family and friends, who talk about each other behind one anothers backs' like its an Olympic sport," he explained.

"And this has something to do with me how?" I wondered aloud.

"You can come and meet everyone," he said offhandedly.

Oh God.

**Authors Note: So, Fang didn't really come to her rescue. He just distracted Dylan long enough for Max to kick his butt. It was pretty Max-like, right? And then the Fax-ness! **

**Tell me what you thought about the chapter in a review. If I get anywhere near the amount of reviews I got for last chapter, I will be so excited (:**


	21. Beautiful

**Authors Note: I wasn't going to update so soon again, but I felt that if I have to get up at five thirty for school, then I'd rather have my inbox full of review alerts rather than none. So PLEASE review! I don't care if you've read it this far, then decided you hated it. Tell me so! Just review, please (: It would start off my first day of school for this year quite well. **

**Chapter Twenty One:**

_**Beautiful**_

The stress was almost killing me as I paced back and forth in my room. My hair was a tangled mess, due to the fact that I had been running my hand through it obsessively for the past ten minutes, stalking the length of my small bedroom. This was all too much, too soon. How was I supposed to tell Fang that, though? I mean for God's sakes, we had only started dating (and I put emphasis on the coming repeated phrase; _if that's what you could call it_) a few days ago, yet he was already prepared to introduce me to his whole family?

At least I had got the whole Mom meeting out of the way. Yeah, because even with us just being friends, that had blown over so well. I could feel the hatred rolling in waves off of that woman. I'm sure she was ecstatic to hear her son was bringing home the girl he had found in the slums of the city. Note; heavy sarcasm in the former statement.

"Max . . . you there?" Fang's voice crackled out of the phone I was holding to my ear, the bad reception making him sound tinny and staticy.

"Yeah. Sorry, I was spacing," I replied truthfully, biting my lip as I twirled a lock of my dirty blonde hair around my finger. It was a habit of mine, which showed just how freaked out I was about this whole thing. Twirling hair was for dimwitted girls trying to act cute and innocent in front of a slobbering guy. Not something Maximum did, yet here I was.

"Is there something wrong?" he demanded. I hated how well he knew me. Just the tone of my voice clued him in on everything I was feeling. There wasn't a thing I could hide from him . . . for the most part.

"I'm fine," I said, forcing myself to sound lighthearted. He seemed to catch on that I was faking though.

"Are you sick?" he inquired, not giving up. I felt tempted to say yes, just to get out of going to this dinner, but I knew the heavy weight of guilt I would feel about lying to him would make me feel worse than sitting through hours of torture.

"No, I promise," I insisted. "It's just . . . " I couldn't make myself speak further. I didn't want to make him mad.

"What?"

"I don't really think this is a good idea," I said in a rush, glad to have it off my chest.

There was a pause that seemed to stretch on for an infinity, before he finally found the words to reply. "You mean us dating?"

"What?" I was caught off guard by his assumption. "No! That's not what I meant. I was talking about this whole dinner with your family and closest friends thing. I just . . . Don't you think it's a bit soon?"

I held my breath, waiting for his angry response. I wasn't in any way prepared for him to start laughing. All I could hear through the phone, though, was his chuckling. I found my brow furrowing as I frowned.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"That's what you're worried about?" he asked, finally calming down, much to my relief. His tone was as blank and normal as it ever was, but there was a teasing note lying within that had me gritting my teeth in embarrassment.

"Well, it is!" I stated defiantly, ashamed at how high my voice went.

"Max, you're going to be fine. I promise." His voice was low and smooth, like music all in its own. I wanted to believe him, but there was more than just my anxiety over meeting a few rich people weighing my shoulders down.

"Regardless of that," I began heatedly, "I still can't go. I don't know what to wear to these kinds of things, and if it's not a pair of ratty jeans and a t-shirt, then I'm pretty sure I'm out of luck."

"That's easy," he said, and I could just imagine him rolling his eyes. "I'll come pick you up, bring you back to my house, and Mom can help you get ready. She'd be absolutely thrilled."

"Your mother hates me," I reminded him.

He sighed into the phone, and I saw the exasperated look he was no doubt wearing. "She doesn't hate you. She doesn't know you enough to hate you. Trust me when I say once she does, she'll _love _you."

"No Fang," I replied firmly. "I'm sorry, but you'll just have to suffer through it with Brigid. I'm not going to make a spectacle of myself. Besides, I don't want you to drive all the way over here."

"Too late," he said, amusement marring his tone.

"What?"

"Now come downstairs and let's go. You're wasting my gas!"

"Fang, please tell me you're not-" I began, but he cut me off with a small chuckle.

"I anticipated your resistance, and thought maybe already being there would guilt you into coming. That and I called earlier and talked to Angel. She seemed excited about you getting all dressed up."

"_Fang_," I snarled.

"You wouldn't want to disappoint her, would you?"

"I hate you," I hissed before I stalked back to the living room and slammed the phone back on the hook, hanging up on him with more force than he would ever actually feel.

I sent Angel a well-earned glare as she grinned at me from the kitchen, Gazzy watching in confusion from behind her. His mouth was full, a half-eaten sandwich in his other hand, but that didn't stop him from talking.

"What was that about?" he mumbled, his words sounding muffled and slurred through his food.

"Ask Angel. I'm sure she'll be glad to tell you about her devious plans with Fang," I replied, flinging the door open as I marched across the room.

"Where are you going?" he demanded after swallowing.

"I have to go out," I said in exasperation. "Once again; blame Angel for having to babysit on a Friday night."

"But-" he began, sounding ashen.

"Take it up with her," I said tiredly, not in the mood to listen to him whine. "I have to go now. Be good little children."

I slammed the door with more force than necessary, fuming. I really didn't want to do this. What made it even worse though, was that Fang had predicted my every evasive tactic, and had easily sidestepped them all. Getting Angel in on it was just the icing on the cake, I suppose. He knew I couldn't say no to her, especially if she played her cards right.

Slowly I shuffled down the front steps of the building, glowering at the smirking Fang leaning on his car, waiting for me. I ignored his greeting, sliding into the passenger seat without any indication that I had heard him. This only seemed to amuse him further.

For the rest of the ride I sat sullenly, simmering in my anger. I completely bypassed all of his attempts at starting a conversation. It was funny seeing him try to make small talk. Usually that was my job.

About halfway through he finally got tired of my silence, and with a sigh he stopped trying to speak with me. Yeah, get used to it buddy. If there was one thing I was good at, it was being stubborn.

When Fang finally pulled up the long drive to his house, I had reached my decision. Even after he had gotten out of the car, I sat like a stone in the passenger seat, trying not to ogle at his house again. It was all magnificent and stuff, even more so than last time. There were artificial flowers planted everywhere, probably since they were having more rich snobs over. Everything about it seemed to gleam and sparkle in a way it hadn't before.

"Aren't you coming?" Fang inquired, opening my door. He hunched down so he could see me, his expression showing a thin layer of concern.

"Nope," I replied, staring straight ahead. "I've decided that I'm not doing this. Take me back home," I ordered.

"You're kidding me, right?" he asked incredulously.

I turned to glare at him, showing him just how serious I was.

"I'm not driving you all the way back," he insisted, moving to the side. He gestured for me to get out of the car. "Now come on. You're being ridiculous."

"Fine," I said with a huff, ducking out onto the pavement. I turned my back to him resolutely, setting off, back towards the road. "I'll walk home then."

"Max, come on!" Fang cried in exasperation, following behind me. I didn't get very far. I was only a few feet away from his car when he reached out to stop me. He latched onto my arm with his firm, strong grip, pulling me to a halt.

"I can't do this, alright?" I murmured, staring up at him pleadingly. He glared back petulantly, without saying a word. Something in his blank gaze told me he wasn't buying my story.

"Let's go," he ordered, dragging me to the front door. I tugged uselessly on his arm, resisting against his hold. When Aria King's face appeared through the propped open door though, I knew my fate was sealed.

"Nicholas, you're finally here," she said delightfully, beaming at her son. I shrunk back self consciously, huddling behind Fang's back.

"I brought Max, like I told you," he informed her, relaxing his grip on me. He knew I wouldn't embarrass myself in front of his mother by running.

"Oh, yes, of course," she replied, and I didn't miss the way her smile faltered, the gleam in her eyes turning frosty. "I got everything set up while you were gone. If you'll just follow me dear, we'll get you presentable in no time."

I could tell her sugar-coated tone was a struggle, and I swallowed thickly as Fang stepped into the house, holding my hand tightly in his. He had to wrench me over the threshold, my feet refusing to budge without force.

"Follow me," Mrs. King commanded, ushering me towards the winding staircase. Her strength surprised me as she gripped my wrist between her fingers. I almost winced as I glanced back at Fang, my eyes wide in panic. He just smirked at me, waving in amusement.

"I managed to find a dress that will fit you, so we'll get you out of these rags as soon as possible," she said haughtily, wrinkling her nose at the state of my clothes. I shrunk back involuntarily, biting my lip at her scrutiny. Her cold, calculating gaze made me feel like I was standing, naked, in front of a million people. Yes, there was something about Aria King that made me wary.

"Okay," I managed to mumble, my throat sounding raw and hoarse.

"Now go in there and take shower. We have a lot of work to do, with only a few hours," she sniffed, practically shoving me into, hands down, the biggest bathroom I had _ever _seen.

That ten minute shower was the, I found out later, only peace I would get for the next four hours of torture. I wasn't used to being pampered, and I decided very quickly I didn't like it. Mrs. King attacked me with weapons I wasn't very familiar with at all. She seemed to know exactly what to do to make me cringe. I could see the gloating smile she wore as she flitted around me, poking and prodding every contour of my head.

Finally, she led me to the bathroom once more, where she shoved a dress bag in my hand and ordered me to slip it on without messing my hair up. I nodded mutely, figuring it was best not to fight her. She was, admittedly, kind of scary . . . and even I didn't have the guts to defy her. This was her terrain I was treading on. Her domain.

"The guests will be here shortly. I'm going to go check on the food and decorations. When you're finished, come downstairs," she said briskly, before disappearing down the hall without a look back. As she walked away she straightened out the string of pearls around her neck, smoothing down her baby blue dress. I kind of just stood there for a minute after that, frozen.

After a few more moments of my straggling I managed to numbly shuffle inside the room, closing the door behind me. I methodically unzipped the dress bag, wincing at the bright crimson of the dress. I nearly groaned as I pulled it up, somehow able to bend my arm far enough to zip it up in the back. When I was finished I forced myself to turn to the mirror, staring at the stranger in front of me.

The dress itself probably cost more than my entire life's worth of earnings. It was soft, hugging my every curve, brushing just above my knee. I fingered the flowing edge of it, frowning at my reflection.

There was no mistake that I looked good. Mrs. King had done a wonderful job of making me look like I fit right in; like I belonged with all these high society people. I didn't look like me though. Quite the opposite, actually.

A soft knocking on the bathroom door broke me out of my trance, and I glanced over sharply, as if something was going to jump out at me. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm myself. I needed to dilute my senses. No use in being so aware. It only made me defensive and jumpy.

Slowly I cracked the door open, peering out cautiously.

"Max?" Fang's concerned voice reached my ears, and he prodded the door open further. I resisted for a moment, before letting him push it fully open, glaring down at my shoes in embarrassment.

"What?" I asked, sounding surprisingly carefree.

"Are you alright? Mom sent me to check on you. Said you should have been down by now," he murmured, and there was something in his tone I couldn't quite place.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just mentally preparing myself," I said honestly, refusing to meet his gaze. I didn't want to think of how ridiculous I must have looked to him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he inquired, his fingers gently prodding my chin upwards. Finally I relented, looking him square in the eye. His stare was as blank as always, nothing showing through.

"It's okay to laugh," I blurted, wanting to bite back the words as soon as they left my mouth. "I won't get mad."

"Laugh?" he asked, seeming genuinely bewildered. "About what?"

"This," I said numbly, gesturing to myself.

"And that's supposed to strike me as funny why?"

"Because I know I look stupid," I muttered.

And then he did laugh, and it hurt more than I had anticipated. I resumed glaring at the floor, feeling a frown tugging at the corners of my mouth. I was being honest when I said I wouldn't get mad . . . but I didn't say anything about not being sad.

"Oh Max," he said with a sigh, pulling me close to him. He wrapped his arms around my waist tightly, pressing me against his chest as he rested his chin on top of my head. "You're more self conscious than you let on."

I stayed silent in my misery.

"You look beautiful," he whispered insistently, his breath tickling my ear as he lowered his head before finally turning his gaze on me. He gave me a smile, the one that I had come to consider special, making my whole day brighten.

Then of course that boy got me thinking, _maybe I can do this after all_.

**Authors Note: This turned out longer than I anticipated. The next chapter, even more so. Truuust me. Anyway, like I explained in the above AN, review, for my life depends on it (:**


	22. Inferno

**Authors Note: Last chapter, I reached my all time high review count for a chapter in ANY of my stories (: I was sooo, happy. You wouldn't even believe it. So now you get the longest chapter you'll probably ever see in this story.**

**Chapter Twenty Two:**

_**Inferno**_

We walked down the stairs into a flood of people. It seemed that in my absence, the party really had started. Couples, their clothes pristine and untouched, mingled in the foyer, glasses of wine already in hand. Most of them were too absorbed in their own conversations to spare Fang and I a glance as we descended onto the main floor, Fang's hand intertwined with mine.

He seemed unaffected by the amount of people suddenly infiltrating his home. In fact, everything about his demeanor seemed casual and at ease. How stupid of me to forget that he was probably used to these things.

"You sure have a lot of friends," I mumbled, trying not to jostle anybody as we transcended even deeper into the folds of the crowd. I was relieved that most simply ignored my presence, but there were a few that shot me disdainful looks, and I knew that no matter how long Mrs. King spent on making me fit in, I would always stand out. It was like they could sense it in my blood; that I wasn't one of _them_.

"Yeah," Fang said with a smirk. "Mom's events usually have quite the turn-out."

"I can see that," I muttered, trying not to look sullen. I hadn't been amongst them for more than two minutes, but I was already wishing I could be anywhere else.

"Are you feeling okay?" Fang asked, turning to face me with an inquisitive expression. He gave me one of his searching looks, and I tried to dismiss his concern with a wave of my hand.

"I'm fine. Couldn't be better," I replied. His lips tightened into a thin line, and I knew I hadn't covered up the sarcasm in my tone very well. I opened my mouth to speak further in assurance, when he cut me off.

"I have a few rounds to make," he said, changing the subject. "People I need to greet, or else I'll have hell to pay for it in the morning. You can come with me, or we can find your somewhere to sit and look pretty." His smirk was even more profuse than before.

Imagining being left all alone, not knowing anybody, made my stomach twinge though, so much that even Fang's almost-smile didn't make me happy. I didn't really feel up to being made even more of an outsider, so I said; "I think I'll come with you."

He nodded, grasping my hand in his once more. We traveled through the people like they were a maze, zig-zagging throughout them. By that time, however, most of the crowd had dispersed, slowly trickling into other parts of the house.

I caught sight of Mrs King by the door, greeting people with warm smiles as they came in. She seemed to be in her prime, playing the role of hostess. Everything that was previously icy had seemed to melt. She was more relaxed, probably because she wasn't around me.

I felt Fang tugging on my hand, and I glanced up at him, not realizing that I was slightly spacing. He gave me a little half-smile, pulling me in the opposite direction. Two people were standing at the bottom of a very large, extremely ornate painting. They seemed to be admiring it, but with the low, murmuring din everything was clouded in, I couldn't make out what they were saying exactly.

"Hello Mr. Cavanaugh," Fang greeted the man, his expression mostly blank. He then turned to the woman and said, "Mrs. Cavanaugh."

"Nicholas, my dear!" Mrs. Cavanaugh exclaimed, grinning brilliantly. Her teeth were unnaturally white and reflective. "Might I say you look as dashing as ever. Still letting your mother dress you, I see."

Fang chuckled, and I couldn't quite detect whether or not it was fake. "As if she'd give me a choice." 

I hadn't really noticed before, but now I realized Fang did in fact change. His black t-shirt had been replaced by a perfectly starched dress shirt, though he had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows casually. He didn't have his jeans on anymore, either.

"Quite true," Mr. Cavanaugh interjected, his voice deep and rumbling. "It's been too long, my boy." They shook hands, causing Fang's palm to snake out of mine. When it fell back against his side, he didn't reach out to me again.

Mrs. Cavanaugh seemed to note this, her expression turning suddenly smug. It was the first time she had acknowledged my presence, and she didn't seem akin to let things be.

"And who might this be?" she chirped, glaring down her nose at me.

"This is Max," Fang said by way of introduction, and I forced myself to smile pleasantly.

"Ah, Max. I've heard quite a lot about you from both Aria and Brigid." The coldness in her voice took me off guard. The hatred bubbling beneath was easily detected. How could you have such strong feelings towards somebody you didn't even know?

_Good things, I'm sure_, I mumbled sarcastically to myself, my smile fading. Fang seemed unaffected by this. It was the first time he was so obviously oblivious to my discomfort.

"Now where's that conniving father of yours?" Mr. Cavanaugh asked, interrupting the heated glaring contest that I had somehow taken up with his wife. "The rascal still owes me money from the last round of cards we played."

"I'm sure he's in his study, showing off his new collection items to the others," Fang informed him nonchalantly. It occurred to me that he was a lot more talkative with these people, versus . . . well, anyone else really.

"You'll have to excuse me then," Mr. Cavanaugh said by way of parting, slipping away. I watched as he strolled leisurely to the other side of the room before disappearing down a hallway.

"I should probably be going as well," Fang said, directing his attention to Mrs. Cavanaugh. "It was good seeing you again."

"Yes, quite. Off you go then. We don't want the others to think I'm hogging all of your charming attention." Her tone was sickly sweet, making me want to cringe at the grating sound it made.

Fang pressed a hand to the small of my back, steering me away. We traversed all over the first story for the next hour or so. He'd stop to chat with people every once in awhile, and I came to realize the banter was all the same. Did nobody have any personality here?

Another thing that didn't change were the cold, distasteful looks I got from pretty much everybody. Everywhere I glanced people were whispering as they eyed me. You'd think I had wings grafted onto my back or something, by the way they were staring at me like I was some freak; the scum beneath their feet. Their looks clearly said; _you don't belong_.

As if this was news to me.

"It's almost six. We should probably head to the dining room," Fang commented, looking down at me. He didn't seem distressed in the least. It finally seemed to dawn on me that this was his regular environment. He was relaxed and almost carefree.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My voice would inevitably give me away, and in a strange way I didn't want to disappoint him.

He led me towards the foyer once more, exiting some wayward lounge that we had strayed into at some point. He nodded to a few people along the way, his face neutral and blank, giving nothing away. I was suddenly jealous of his ability to hide his emotions. To be able to throw up that kind of impenetrable wall would be handy.

Mrs. King instantly converged on us as we entered what I presumed to be the dining room. It was definitely bigger than any I had ever been in, the length of the room surpassing that of my entire house. There was a long table in the center of everything, the place settings perfect and pristine, looking like they had come out of some magazine. At home we used what available utensils we could rummage up at the time . . . this, on the other hand, was amazing.

I quickly realized that the seating arrangements were set up in such a way that I would feel more uncomfortable than I had all night. Mr. King, who I had yet to meet, would take his place at the head of the table, with Mrs. King to one side. The other would be occupied by Fang, obviously. It only seemed natural then, that they would stick me by him, right?

Wrong.

I felt isolated from the rest, sitting stiffly by Mrs. King as the rest of the guests trickled into what was more of a dining _hall _than a _room_. Brigid, who I had caught fleeting glimpses of throughout the early evening, swooped in gracefully, dropping into the seat beside Fang. He didn't acknowledge her much, much to my satisfaction. He didn't however, object to the whole seating thing either, which had me hiding a frown.

This also showed that Mrs. King was still rooting for Brigid to win over Fang's heart. Why else would she risk placing me beside her? That woman would do anything to break us up. That notion was becoming clearer every second.

A tall, slim man was the last to enter, escorting two others. His smile seemed genuine, but his dark eyes flashed when his gaze met mine. I shrunk back involuntarily, seeing where Fang got his glare from. Like father, like son.

Mr. King ambled over, after a few brief conversations with people along the way. When he passed his wife he put a hand on her shoulder, bending to kiss her cheek. She smiled lovingly at him, and I saw Fang smirking out of the corner of my eye.

The dinner commenced on as normal after that. A few hours before, my stomach had been rumbling dangerously. Now, though, I found that I had lost my appetite entirely. There was something else pooling in my stomach, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I only took a few bites off my plate, letting the waiters take it away to replace it with the next course almost completely untouched.

For the most part I stayed silent, letting the individual conversations drift around me. Fang was mostly the one directing questions or comments at me, but I waved his attempts off with a few meager replies.

My peace couldn't last long, though. No . . . that would have been too easy.

"So Max," Brigid started, her gaze steely. "How's your brother?"

"Um . . ." I mumbled, surprised that she was speaking directly to me. "He's fine."

The woman to the right of me perked her head in interest, not being discreet in her sleuthing. She turned fully to look at me with a piercing gaze, as if I was going to say something juicy and interesting. Well, good luck with that one.

"And your sister? I heard about the accident, and might I say that is a terrible, terrible thing. Especially for it to happen to such a little girl. It's quite tragic. Impossibly _awful_," she cooed, making my head hurt. Some people were just naturally annoying, and I had a feeling that she was one of them.

"Thank you," I managed to strangle out, taking a deep breath. "She's doing much better."

"That's great," Brigid said with a grin, but I could tell it wasn't sincere. Meanwhile, the woman beside me was getting more and more interested.

"Tell me, darling, how exactly did you meet our Nicholas?" she mused, her eyes as flinty as all the others. The monotone in which she spoke gave her intentions away clearly enough.

I glanced sharply over at Fang, only to find him watching on with a small smile. Oh great. He probably thought we were getting along or something stupid like that; like they were _including _me. God knows he was too blind to see that they were plainly interrogating as much information out of me as possible.

"Well . . ." I started, unsure of how much Fang had told his family. "I go to school with one of his friends," I supplied meekly.

"Yes, it's a shame Jeffery couldn't attend tonight," Brigid said venomously, and I mentally tacked on in my head the; _instead of you_, that was obviously implied.

"And speaking of shames . . ." she continued, smiling wickedly. "Nick told us about your mother. It's a very sad tale. So heart breaking. Drug abuse is a very serious thing."

The closest people around our little bubble gasped, and I felt my expression harden as dread settled in the pit of my stomach. He had told them? He had spouted out the perfectly cultivated lie I had been withholding all these years, giving away _everything_?

I felt my breath leave in a 'whoosh' as I stood abruptly, almost knocking my plate to the floor. Brigid's face was graced with a triumphant grin. "I need some air," I muttered. "Please excuse me."

I threw my napkin down on the table, ignoring the fact that I was probably acting extremely rude. My behavior, however, was no match for how uncalled for Brigid's seemingly accusatory statement had been. It wasn't my fault my mom was like this.

I hurried out of the room, practically flying in my haste to escape. My eyes pricked, but not with tears. I wasn't going to cry over something as stupid as Brigid making me squirm. I was _way _too tough for that. I was beyond angry though, breaching the realms of the unknown, my fury was so great.

"Max!" I vaguely heard my name being called, but I forged ahead. My hand was poised over the door handle when Fang skidded to a halt beside me, grasping my palm in his. "Max, wait!"

"Get away from me," I snarled, fighting the urge to elbow him in the stomach.

"Let me explain," he insisted, his fingers squeezing tightly over mine.

"I think you've done enough, thanks," I hissed, rounding on him.

"I didn't tell them," he whispered, pressing my back to the wall. I fought the dizziness that engulfed me, ignoring the way my heart stuttered at his close proximity. No way was I allowing him to see the affect he had on me.

"Then who did?" I ground out through gritted teeth. "_Gazzy_?"

"No, I-" he began, but I cut him off.

"Because no one else but you knew Fang! And it's not likely that either Angel or Nudge blabbed."

"I swear to you I never spoke one word of it to her. She was lying. The only person I talked about it with was my dad, and he promised he wouldn't say anything. He's trustworthy like that, Max. If he said he wouldn't mention it, he didn't. Mom must have been listening in, and then she told Brigid. I didn't tell them _anything_."

"Why should I believe you?" I demanded harshly.

"Because you trust me. You know you do . . . and you also know I'm telling the truth." He was so serious; his obsidian eyes so calculated, like every look was another way to convince me.

"I . . ." I began, trying to formulate the right words, but finding it harder than I imagined. "I just . . ."

"I would never do that to you," he stated, and something changed in his blank demeanor. His eyes softened, and some emotion I couldn't quite identify shone through. He wasn't fully opening up to me yet, but he wasn't being as careful to hide what he was feeling either. It was a start for me, and probably a giant leap for him. That one look said he trusted _me_, at least, regardless of whether I trusted him.

"I can't go back in there," I said with a heaving sigh, changing the subject. I didn't want to dwell on it any longer than necessary.

"I wouldn't expect you to," he replied, taking my hand in his. He started leading me towards the stairs even before he spoke. "We'll just hang out in my room for awhile, then. At this point, nobody will miss me."

I might have said, 'okay', or I might have just nodded. Either way, we continued on up, passing the second floor landing and going even further to the third, where I had yet to venture.

We walked past a few doors before coming out into a large, open space. It looked like a regular living room, once you'd expect to see in just about anybodies house. _Oh great, he has his own house in a house_, I though bitterly to myself.

"Do you want anything to drink?" he asked as I sat down on one of the plush couches. I ran my fingers across the soft fabric, shaking my head no. I don't think I could stomach anything at the moment.

He nodded, lounging out beside me. A comfortable silence fell between us, the only sound being made from the soft buzzing of the heater. I glanced up from my fingers in my lap to find him staring down at me, his gaze blank and a smirk gracing his lips.

"What?" I demanded, wondering what about me amused him so much.

He didn't give me an answer, only shaking his head as his smirk grew more profuse. I scoffed, smacking his shoulder with the heel of my hand. Still he uttered not a word, catching my arm with his iron-like grip. He pulled me flush against him, my cheek resting on his chest as his arms wound their way around my waist.

I realized how odd the situation was. Fang was always so closed off, cloaking his emotions to the world, while I was slightly more flamboyant with my expressions. For the most part you could tell what I was feeling, whereas reading him was near impossible. You'd think then, that I would be more dominating in the relationship- the one who initiated the soft embraces and tingling kisses, when in reality it was the other way around. It was probably because he was more experienced with these things than I was, but the thought only had bitterness flooding my thoughts, so I shook it off.

We just sat there, tangled with each other as the clock on the wall ticked away the time; the rhythm of my pulse beating in tune with it. Minutes flew by, but I hardly noticed. I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts to register anything but Fang's hand slowly stroking my hair as the other rubbed soothing circles on my lower back. He was too respectful to stray any lower, thankfully.

Vaguely I heard the sounds of the party going on a few stories below, but it was like those events were from a different world. Nothing could penetrate the cocoon Fang and I were encased in . . . Nothing but the cold, brutal truth of reality.

Without warning the thought struck me, like an agonizing slap to the face. I found myself jumping to my feet before I had fully processed my actions. I stumbled a few steps away, aware somewhere in the back of my mind that Fang had come to his feet as well.

"I have to go," I stated, my voice surprisingly level and calm; nothing like the inside of my mind.

"What?" Fang asked shortly in confusion. He was never one to tarry. "Why?"

I tried to come up with some lie. I could pretend that I had forgotten something important that I had to do today, but lying to him now seemed irrevocably wrong. I decided the truth was what was best to execute at the moment.

"I tried, Fang, I really did," I said, my voice coming out in a hushed whisper. It sounded frail, which I was anything but. My thoughts were emotionally charged, common sense never breaching my mind.

"What are you talking about?"

"I ignored it all at first, but ever since you brought me and Gazzy here the first time, things changed. You weren't some mysterious stranger that helped me out when I needed it. This all gave you more of an identity; more of a background," I tried to explain, my conflicting emotions waging a full-scale war in my head. My heart and my head were saying two _very _different things though.

"Max, what-?" he began, but I was running out of patience. I shushed him before he got another word out, continuing on as if he had never interrupted.

"You're different, Fang. Irreparably so. Nothing I think or say can ever change that. You didn't grow up like I did. The society you were born in frowns upon people like me, who come from what they consider the filthiest streets imaginable." I could sense him beginning to argue, so I changed course slightly. "Don't try to say it isn't true. You know it.

"I can only pretend to belong here so long, and it's especially hard when everywhere I turn someone's glaring down their nose at me as if I don't deserve to be in their company."

"Max, this is-" he started in again.

"Ridiculous? I know. It's _ridiculous _that such ranks have been established, and though they aren't clearly stated, they're there regardless- and I can't do it anymore. I won't stay another second and watch as your mother turns those cold, calculating eyes on me. I won't hang around and listen as every single person in that room says exactly the right thing to make me feel like I don't belong."

Throughout my speech my back was turned. I didn't want to see the look he wore, or the emotion in his eyes. Even now I couldn't bear to turn; to face what I most feared. Instead I straightened my shoulders, barely taking a step before he was roughly yanking me back.

"Fang, please-"

"No. You'll stand here and you'll listen. You got your say, now I get mine."

I took a deep breath, nodding my head mutely. Resistance was futile.

"I don't care," he insisted starkly, the white rage in his voice apparent. "I don't care if my mother hates you for everything your worth. I don't care if Brigid is out for your blood. I don't care if my father frowns at the thought of you. I don't care if any of those people think you're the exact opposite of what's right for me. They don't know what I want, Max, and I _don't care _if they're only looking out for what's best for me. _I know you're what's best for me_, and if they don't want to accept that then that's their problem, not mine."

His words were harsh, cutting straight to the bone even though I knew his anger wasn't directed to me.

"I don't need their approval, and I'm certainly not going to change my mind to fit their expectations. None of that matters to me, and all that _does _matter is that I'm with _you_."

I finally tore my gaze to his, meeting his eyes. My surprise at his words was doubled at the emotion bursting in what used to be those hard, obsidian rocks. Nothing could have prepared me for that.

Before I could get a word in edgewise he gripped my face in both of his hands, crushing his lips to mine with an urgency that hardly curbed my own hunger. I responded almost instantaneously, all hesitation and doubt swiped clean from my mind. All I knew was _Fang_. That and the sweet, tempting taste of his mouth on mine.

My breathing was beyond ragged when we finally pulled apart, both of us gasping for oxygen that couldn't seem to come quick enough. As we inhaled he rested his forehead on mine, and I felt my eyelids flutter shut again, content in the silence the ensued.

When my heart rate had returned to something that was semi-normal I managed to whisper; "Please, just take me home now."

"Whatever you want," he agreed, slipping his warm, calloused hand into mine.

We managed to sneak downstairs without a hitch, slipping into the descending twilight without anyone's notice. He kept one hand in mine as he started the car, maneuvering out onto the street, no words needed to break the quiet between us. It was only when we were nearing familiar territory that I spoke.

"Turn down this road," I ordered. "There's someone I needed to see."

Fang complied without question, which was just another thing I liked about him. He didn't trouble people with words. His silent demeanor could come in handy sometimes. After that it didn't take long to see the flashing lights and hear the blaring sirens.

My breath really caught though, when I caught sight of the burning inferno of flames.

**Authors Note: And you get a cliffhanger to end your longer-than-average chapter! I think you can manage to find SOMETHING to write a review about, correct? Please do (: **


	23. Ashes

**Authors Note: Thanks for the reviews. I love each and every one of them (: Most of you seemed to enjoy the long chapter, and I'm happy to say there WILL be another close to the length. A little less. Fuuun (:**

**Chapter Twenty Three:**

_**Ashes**_

I couldn't muster a sound as I watched, transfixed at the roiling flames. They licked their way up the side of the house, encompassing every available surface. Smoke drifted in billowing, swollen gusts, suffocating the air.

My throat constricted, leaving no room for words, nor a single sound, to escape. Without thinking through my actions I was rolling onto the sidewalk, hitting the ground at a sprint. I skidded to a halt a safe distance from the burning building, my face ashen.

There was nothing I could do but gaze on as everything in immediate vicinity was swallowed in the ghastly flames, choking the life out of everything as it burned steadily. Vaguely I heard the shouts of firefighters as they tried to wrangle down the flames, but it was like a living beast, only rearing up -greater than ever- at each of their attempts.

The building soon became unrecognizable, completely engulfed in the white-hot inferno. It left a destructive path in its wake, spreading and spreading. Slowly, the burning bits began to crumble. The roof caved in, thundering down with a mighty crash that sent me reeling. Strong arms secured my waist, keeping my upright. I never tore my horrified gaze from the flames, too stricken to let it wander.

I stood like that, crumpled onto Fang as he held me wordlessly, watching grimly. Eventually enough water was hashed out to put out the fire completely. Still, I couldn't bring myself to move, even when all that was left was smoldering ashes.

The smoke wafting through the air stung my eyes, making me cough. It swirled in the atmosphere all around me, as if taunting. A sick sort of game was being played.

"Max, we should go," Fang said quietly, taking note of my shudders.

"No . . . wait," I managed to whisper, my voice dry and brittle.

I walked forward, stepping gingerly around anything in my path. I approached the sight of the wreckage, picking my way through the flaking ashes. Someone was shouting at me to stay back, that it wasn't safe, but I ignored them.

The first prick of tears poked at my eyes as I stood in the middle of it all; the broken shell of my second home, for all intents and purposes. The place I had considered a safe escape if anything bad happened.

Slowly my mind registered the hands pulling me back, stumbling onto the sidewalk. I glanced up to meet the eyes of a stranger. I blinked several times before I managed to compose myself.

"I . . . Sorry," I muttered, shaking my head. I wiped away the tears in my eyes, embarrassed that I had almost broken down in front of all these people.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" I examined the man more closely, taking in his equipment. He was one of the firefighters, his helmet lying in the grass a few feet away. He was giving me a worried look, like he thought I was unstable.

"I'm fine," I insisted, pulling out of his grasp. "Just . . . what happened here?"

"We're not sure yet," he said grimly. "We think it's an accident, but you can never be too sure. It doesn't help that by the time we were called, most of the damage had been done. Obviously, we won't be able to scrounge of much from what's left.

"And the people who lived here? Are they okay?" I demanded, my mind a jumbled mass of unanswered questions.

"All victims were taken to the hospital by ambulance. Each of them were in critical condition," he explained sadly.

"Thank you," I muttered quickly before walking away. Fang was standing a few feet off to the side, giving me one of his searching gazes. He tried to gauge my expression, but I remained stoic. I learned from the best, after all.

"Hospital," I said numbly, brushing past him. I ducked into his car before he could get another word in, dropping my head in my hands as I tried to process all that had occurred. A point just above my right eyebrow began to build up pressure uncomfortably.

Most people would insist I give an explanation for my odd behavior, but Fang seemed to sense that I had yet to gather my bearings. He remained silent as we drove, only turning to look at me once he had parked close to the hospital. His eyes flashed momentary confusion before the emotionless wall was back in place. He took the keys out of the ignition, pocketing them as he climbed out of the car. I followed close behind, rubbing my itching eyes.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I nodded with a sigh, the doors of the hospital gliding open automatically as we approached. I suppressed a shudder as the smell hit me. My hatred for it just kept growing and growing.

I approached the front desk with Fang at my side, his arm pressed up against mine as if to remind me that he was still there.

"Excuse me," I said to the nurse stationed there. She glanced up at me with a friendly smile, completely at attention. "Has a Jared Morgan been admitted?"

She flipped through a few files, her brow furrowed. After a moment she looked up. "Yes. He's in the ICU at the moment. He should be accepting visitors in just awhile."

"Were there any others admitted with him?" I was afraid to ask, but I knew I had to.

Her expression turned solemn, and I sucked in a breath, biting my bottom lip in trepidation.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. His wife and son. The paramedics tried their best to revive them, but they both had too much smoke in their lungs. They were pronounced dead on arrival. I'm so very sorry," she said sincerely, her voice low and soothing.

I blinked in shock, my mind reeling. I stumbled back, putting my hand over my mouth as a strangled cry escaped between my unwilling lips. Ian; little, innocent baby Ian . . . and Sarah; kind, nurturing Sarah were . . . dead?

It took me a moment to realize that I was speaking. Harsh reality crashed in though, as Fang wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in his scent. I buried my face in his shirt, my cries muffled as I moaned, "No . . . no, no, no!" over and over again, as if it would make the truth any less real.

"Shh," Fang murmured in my ear, his voice low and controlled. "It's okay, Max . . . It's okay."

I kept up my mantra for God knows how long, though not a single tear managed to escape my eyes. I think the awful, choked sounds were worse though. Glancing up at Fang, I saw his pained expression . . . _Yes, definitely worse._

Finally I composed myself long enough to mumble in a cracked, almost indiscernible whisper; "I need to see Jared."

Fang nodded, disentangling himself from me. He approached the front desk, his head bent as he talked in quiet tones to the nurse. After a moment she shot me a pitying look, and then Fang was beckoning me over.

"Is something wrong?" I inquired, my voice shaking at the prospect.

"Are you related to Jared in any way?" Fang asked.

"No. Not by blood, or anything. He's like a brother to me, though," I explained, glancing warily at the nurse as she smiled sadly.

"I'm afraid you'll need permission by him or another direct family member to get in then, dear," she informed me

"Well then tell him Max is here. He'll let me in," I insisted, my fury growing. Were they really going to deny my entrance?

"He's resting right now, but someone from his family is with him. Go on ahead up, and I'll call and have them meet you. They can decide from there. His room is two eleven."

"Thank you," I muttered sullenly before taking off for the elevators. Fang followed closely behind, his gaze never leaving me. I hopped into the nearest cart that came, ignoring how antsy I got at being in such a closed space. Claustrophobia was the last thing on my mind right now. An impending doom in the elevator was going to have to wait.

Once the doors opened again, I set off down the hall at a brisk pace; watching closely for the correct number. Digits flew by at a blinding speed, until finally I turned down the right corridor.

I had just reached my hand out, it hovering inches over the knob, when a force from the other side shoved it open. I took an involuntary step back, peeking around the door frame to see if I could catch a glimpse of Jared. A managed to catch sight of a tuft of reddish-brown hair and a mass of tubes before there was a body blocking my vision.

"What do we have here?" a taunting voice asked, and my gaze immediately snapped up to the person's face.

"_Dylan_?" I demanded incredulously. When the nurse had said a family member was present, the thought that it could be him had never crossed my mind. Their hatred for each other was obvious to even a total stranger.

"Hello Maxie," he said sweetly, but there was an angry undercurrent to his words, and I knew that all had not been forgiven from our recent dispute. Behind me I felt Fang stiffen before taking a step closer.

"What are you doing here?" The malice in my tone was evident.

"Why, my dear brother has been hurt. As soon as I heard I just had to rush right over to see if he was doing okay. My only thought was whether he was _dead _or _alive_."

"I'm sure you were hoping for the former," I spat acidly.

"I can only dream," he replied smugly. "But sadly, it seems he'll survive. What a pity. From what I heard though, his wife and my nephew weren't quite as lucky."

"You sick bastard!" I screamed, lunging at him with a vengeful cry. His eyes widened and he ducked out of my reach, his hands going up defensively. Unfortunately, Fang grabbed me around the waist, hauling me back. I struggled against his hold, but eventually gave up. He was too strong.

"Tsk, tsk," Dylan said mockingly. "That's no way to act in a hospital, nor around my fragile brother. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave immediately."

"What?" My face was ashen, all the breath leaving me in a 'whoosh'. Did Dylan not understand that I needed to see Jared? Was he _really _that selfish?

"Apparently it's in my power to deny your admittance. I take pleasure in that."

"Dylan . . ." I said haltingly. "I have to see him."

The cold laughter my words were met with was chilling.

"Please," I insisted, my voice faltering. "Just do this one thing for me. You said you were trying to be a better person, right? Well start now. Please let me in, Dylan. It's the only thing I ask."

His face contorted at the pleading in my voice. He had never heard me beg before. _Ever_.

But there was always a first time for everything.

**Authors Note: Sometimes cliffhangers are ruined when everyone seems to know exactly what's going to happen, as most of you did last chapter. *Sigh* Oh well. Review please! I start my first full week of school tomorrow. I need something to get me by!**


	24. Defeat

**Authors Note: This is the chapter . . . The chapter you've all been (cliche, I know) waiting for; some more insistently than others. Read on! I demand it (:**

**Chapter Twenty Four:**

_**Defeat**_

Dylan seemed to age twenty years in that one moment. His face drained and it was like all the life had been sucked out of him. His shoulders dropped under some invisible weight, and his resigned sigh filled the heavy silence. For the first time I was witnessing his defeat.

"Go ahead," he mumbled, his eyes downcast. I didn't know what higher power took over him at that moment, but I was thankful nonetheless. I had anticipated a fight, but for once I was rewarded.

"Thank you," I whispered meaningfully as I passed him. He may not ever be able to understand how much that one gesture meant to me, and though all was not forgiven -if that was even possible at this point- a small part of my stone-cold heart melted at his sudden kindness.

I slipped quietly into the room, being careful to not utter a sound, even as my heart constricted painfully at the sight of Jared. The state he was in brought tears to my eyes, and I knew that there would be no holding them back. I stifled the sobs though, just watching his chest rise shakily before falling again through the fractured vision of my slow, trailing tears.

The gentle beeping of his heart monitor wasn't reassuring. It wasn't near the pace it should have been, but it was proof that he was alive nonetheless, and I would take him weak and needy over nothing at all.

There were so many wires and tubes sticking out of him though, and his face was so gaunt under the sallow lighting that I couldn't help but wonder if he was really living at all. There were burn marks, bright and still inflamed blooming like deadly blossoms along every available surface of his body, and his face was scarred beyond belief. He would not come out of this unscathed.

Slowly I approached his side, one hand over my mouth to muffle the strangled cries I felt building in my throat. Here was _the _strongest person I knew, almost unrecognizable because of appalling injuries.

I folded my other hand over his, clutching tightly to it as if it was the only thing anchoring me to the earth. I was careful to not disturb the IV, smoothing down a crease in the tape.

Eventually my tears subsided, and I was instead staring hollowly down at his mangled form, helpless to do anything but wait for him to wake up. I was unaware of the time, or when exactly Fang had left me alone with my only companion a comatose being. I vaguely noted that days were passing, yet I never moved more than to use the bathroom. People came and went; Jared's many friends and other family members.

I was the only one who stayed.

Finally the day came when there was a disturbance in his heart rate. It picked up mildly, skipping a few beats before settling as normal. I glanced up from where I had been sitting at the window, staring out into the cloudless blue sky, only to be met with Jared's firm, though confused, eyes.

It took me a moment to register the situation, but once it did I was out of my seat and at his side in a flash.

"You're awake," I breathed in relief, smiling in evident delight.

"Yeah," he replied. "I noticed.

I rolled my eyes, my grin widening. "I was beginning to think you never would," I admitted solemnly, switching to serious.

"And leave you to yourself? I don't think so," he said effortlessly, as if he hadn't just come out of a coma.

We chatted like this for some time, as if it was just a normal day at the gym. There came a time when a stray nurse wandered in, checking up on his vitals and informing him that a doctor would be in to see him shortly.

It was around then that he asked the question I had been dreading since the moment his eyes first opened. To tell a man his wife and son were no longer among the living was to break his heart. To tell this to a man whose whole life revolved around those people was to shatter his soul.

But after all, I was the bearer of bad news.

Watching the realization dawn in his eyes was the worst part. It numbed me straight to the core, so that I barely registered the screaming and heart-wrenching sobs that followed.

I watched with trembling lips as they sedated him, his eyes clearly accusatory as he slipped once more into unconsciousness.

When I finally managed to escape that dreadful, anguish filled room, the date was like a slap in the face. So many days had passed. I wasn't prepared to face the facts of reality, but they were intruding upon me without restraint.

After months and months of preparation it was finally here. Scheduled tonight, the biggest brawl in years was set to go down. I would face my biggest enemy, one whose identity was a complete mystery . . . and I would do it alone. Jared wouldn't be there to back me up this time. He had his own battles to fight at the moment.

When the time finally came around though, I found it strangely easy to walk through the doors with my head held high. It took me a few minutes to make my way through the crowd. The audience had increased drastically. Fans from all over had shown up for tonights fight. It was supposed to be monumental. I didn't really care about that, though. I was more interested in the prize money, which would no doubt be just as worthy.

"Good, you're here," the announcer said when he caught sight of me shoving my way towards the make-shirt ring.

"Did you doubt I'd show?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Heard about Jared. Didn't know if you'd be able to drag yourself away. Glad you made it, sweetheart. Would have been hard to explain your absence to the crowd," he explained, giving me a shifty smile. I knew him from previous fights, but he still creeped me out.

"Right," I replied, rolling my eyes. "Let's just get this thing going. I don't have all night."

"Sure thing, princess," he retorted snarkily, turning his back to me. I followed as he parted the crowd in front of me, smirking profusely. It was easy to get under some people's skin.

Once I got to my designated preparation space I went on as normal. When I was all accounted for I turned to glare petulantly at the shadowed space across from me. How ironic. I guess they wanted to prolong our meeting even longer. I couldn't see a thing past the bright strobe lights situated on the ring, which was probably their entire plan.

I only half listened as the announcer made his usual small talk. My ears perked up, though, when he finally moved on to the important stuff.

"And now the moment you've all been waiting for, our two youngest champions will come face to face for the first time. They must square off in combat until the other gives in. Each of them are undefeated at this moment, but only one will walk away with that title tonight." The crowd roared appreciatively, the anticipation hiking up to a new level. "I welcome to the ring . . . Maximum and The Shadow."

I stepped forwards on some invisible cue, my stance haughty and my head held defensively. The shadows across from me seemed to ripple, and a dark figure entered the arena at the same instance.

I took in my biggest enemies windswept black hair, bronzed skin, strong jaw and obsidian colored eyes that seemed to match his clothes almost completely in the harsh lighting. A sick feeling settling in the pit of my stomach, and I swallowed thickly around the sudden lump in my throat.

"Fang?" I'm sure no sound escaped my constricted vocal chords, but he seemed to understand anyway. I took an involuntary step forwards, and he followed suit until we met in the middle, twin looks of bewilderment on our faces.

"Fang?" I repeated, my voice grating harshly as I glared at him incredulously.

"I should of guessed it. I mean, Max . . . Maximum. And then the way you were always so busted up, but you would never tell me why . . ." Fang trailed off, his mouth set in a grim line at the memories.

"You had a fight, that night I came to talk to you . . . and all those other times you randomly disappeared for hours. You were doing this," I supplied, realization dawning. It all made sense now; the little details clicking into place to complete this one big picture.

He nodded, and we lapsed into silence. I tried to let my mind process this . . . that my boyfriend (objectively speaking) was somehow the only thing standing in my way of a huge wad of cash, and I had no idea until now. We had gotten to know each other, while unknowingly being the others biggest nightmare.

"This is so . . ." I mused, not able to stand the quiet growing between us.

"Weird?" Fang suggested, smirking.

"Exactly," I agreed.

By this point the crowd was growing restless. It probably seemed strange to them, to see us talking like this, as if we were old friends . . . when in reality, they had absolutely _no _idea.

"Well, we should probably get this over with, then."

"What?" Fang asked, returning to incredulous, as if he was surprised I still wanted to go through with this.

"We've been promising this crowd a show for months. I can't disappoint my fans," I said sarcastically, giving him a genuine smile. "Plus, this should be fun. I'll enjoy kicking your ass."

Fang snorted. "In your dreams."

"We'll see," I replied challengingly. "In the meantime, don't hold back for me, because I promise you; I _won't _return the favor."

"Oh really?" Fang cocked an eyebrow, amusement for once _clear _in his eyes.

I nodded, turning to walk away. He did the same, when I stopped him by making one of my executive split second decisions. I whirled around, catching his shoulder. His gaze found mine in question, and I smirked devilishly before taking a handful of the front of his shirt and yanking him down to my level. I smashed my lips to his; _hard_. It only lasted a second, but it was long enough for him to look slightly dazed when I pulled away.

"Good luck," I sang wickedly, sauntering away. I peeked over my shoulder once to see him shaking his head as he stood dumbfounded in the center of the ring, the background of the whistling, chortling crowd in contrast to his confusion.

Then the announcer was laying down the rules; the same ones I had committed to memory ages ago, and time was closing in. I was becoming more aware of my surroundings by the second as my senses started sliding into place as normal. Things were running more smoothly than I anticipated after my display. Even Fang seemed to have shaken it off, his blank exterior returning as he gazed coolly and calmly at me.

The shouting came to a halt, no one speaking. It seemed like everybody in the room was holding their breath, waiting for one of us to make the first move, as Fang and I circled each other tauntingly. My breathing regulated, my senses filtering out the vile stench of perspiration, which was increased due to the heavy amount of packed bodies. I was waiting for something -some sign- to give me my next move, but we just continued on as so.

"Max," Fang whispered slowly and tersely, breaking the hefty silence between us. "Maybe we shouldn't do this. I don't want to hurt you."

There was a part of my mind that seemed to whisper; _'now!'_ in a voice that didn't belong to me. Even so I acted on it, my fist snapping out with ease. It crunched against his jaw, making him stumble back a few feet in surprise.

"Good thing I don't have that problem," I said with a smirk . . . and that's when it all started.

We became locked in combat, a flurry of kicks and punches being shared equally. He was good. Better than I had ever anticipated. He really lived up to his name as The Shadow. He was there one moment and then he was gone, before suddenly reappearing somewhere else.

I was keeping up with him though, barely breathing hard. He had landed a few good punches, but nothing that really winded me. For what it was worth, we seemed to be in the same condition. The time to gain the upper hand was nearing, and I planned on taking it as my own.

I hadn't factored in the being thrown on my back thing, though.

I gasped as my spine hit the hard concrete. Fang, looking like an avenging angel of death, descended upon me in my weakness. He jabbed the heel of his palm against my chin, snapping my head back. I spit to the side, kicking at his legs. He quickly pinned me, his knee riding into the soft flesh of my stomach. I grunted, unable to move.

"Give up yet?" Fang inquired, his face hovering mere centimeters from mine. His wariness towards hurting me had faded long ago.

"Not a chance," I said sweetly, smiling widely. His brow furrowed at my sudden enthusiasm, but I kept up my plan. I lifted my head off the ground, though the movement was killer on my neck, and locked my lips to his. His grip loosened on contact, a muted sound of surprise bubbling up from deep in his throat.

Without wasting a second of his confusion I rammed my forehead against his, my head throbbing painfully afterwards. I punched him, using the momentum of the swing to flip us over. I delivered a sharp elbow to his gut, making him splutter. Vaguely I heard the audience roar at this new twist, drinking the show up.

Fang grunted once, and without warning I was thrown off of his torso. I scuttled to my feet, crouching down as he approached. When he was within distance I flew at him, knocking him back a few feet. My fist connected with his nose just as his forged a blow to my stomach. I coughed, spitting out blood. Fang took this as an opportunity and twisted my arm in his grip, forcing me around so that my back was to him. I gasped as the white hot pain engulfed me. If he was aiming to rip my arm from its socket, he was doing a good job.

Suddenly, my legs were swept from beneath me, and I crashed headfirst to the ground, my arm dancing with pain. I felt blood trickle off a cut the pavement made in my head as it invaded my vision. I tried to blink it away, but it just kept coming, and I found myself growing dizzy from blood loss.

Weakly I flipped to my stomach, trying to use as much force as I could muster to push myself up. My arm was useless though, and the other was too shaky to offer much help. I collapsed to the floor again, my breathing shallow as the world tipped and spun in an odd direction. Everything was pitching violently around me, and my vision was becoming cloudy as everything seemed to glow with a brighter light.

I fought it as hard as I could, trying to muster enough strength to get back on my feet. My mind was too hazy though, and for a moment I couldn't tell up from down. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew I had to keep going. Failure wasn't an option. I had obligations . . . I had people I cared about. I needed to win this, or else the consequences would override everything else. I couldn't do it though. I couldn't push myself up again.

I laid there, wallowing in my own sorrow as the crowd around me erupted into either ecstatic or outraged cheers. Vaguely I heard, as if from far away, Fang -The Shadow- being announced the winner. The undefeatable champion.

I took deep breaths as the last remnants of my dizziness subsided, leaving only the blood still caked on my face as memory of it. Then Fang was there, crouching at my side, his eyes brimming concern. He held out his hand, his mouth forming the words; "Max, are you alright?" . . . but I couldn't hear anything through the deafening roar in my ears.

I ignored his open palm, struggling as I pushed myself to my knees. Aware of his presence beside me I shakily came to a stand. Not meeting his eyes I turned my back to him, walking away with the distant sound of his cries crashing down all around me, just another reminder of my defeat. The unthinkable had happened . . .

I had lost.

**Authors Note: Tell me if you were expecting that! Because I know from some reviews that most people thought that Max was just going to kick butt. Unfortunately, that was never my plan. Please review! I'm sure you can think up SOMETHING to comment on. It was a very controversial chapter, don't you agree?**


	25. Gone

**Authors Note: Okay, lots to talk about. First off; I AM SO HAPPY! Last chapter has almost sixty reviews as of now, which may not seem so impressive to certain people, but is considered an amazing feat to me. It's more than I ever thought I'd get for a single chapter, so mucho thanks to all that took their time to review here, in the past, and from this moment on.**

**Second; I know some of you made comments about it seeming rushed. I know times a million. As I wrote it I could tell, and when I re-read it to edit I could tell, but there wasn't much I could do. The transition from hospital to fight was rocky because I've got this thing going where I don't have any page breaks or anything. I'm trying to improve my writing by finding a way to continue it constantly, connecting one time frame to the next. And some of you said the fight was too short, but you have to keep in mind that they fought longer than I explained. I tried to keep it quick and moving along, so if it seemed rushed, I'm sorry. Isn't that how fight scenes are supposed to be, though?**

Third; Hopefully some of the questions you asked regarding Fang's involvement in street fighting will be answered soon. Probably in the last chapter, actually, which isn't that far off. Five more to go and this story is finished.

**Chapter Twenty Five:**

_**Gone**_

I shoved my books in my locker numbly, trying to ignore the deep, throbbing pain in my chest. There was a voice inside my head screaming that this was all my fault; that I should have been more prepared . . . that I could have prevented this from happening.

It was easier to blame him though.

"Max!" Someone shouted my name angrily from the end of the hall. Glancing around, I realized that through my angst-ridden musings the corridor had emptied completely. There wasn't a soul in sight.

Sighing I slammed the rest of my things into place before flinging the door shut with more force than necessary. I turned my back resolutely, stalking away. There was a hand gripping my elbow though, pulling me back before I could escape.

"So that's it then?" he demanded. "You're just going to ignore me now, because I beat you. God Max, I didn't take you to be such a sore loser. It's not that big of a deal anyway."

"Not that big of a deal?" I snarled, rounding on him as my fury increased. I gave him my deadliest look, ripping my arm from his grasp. "You don't know the first thing about it."

"Then tell me, because I obviously _don't understand_," he insisted, his gaze steady.

"You think I like street fighting?" I asked incredulously, trying to maintain a low and controlled tone. "I don't do it for kicks, Fang. You saw where I live. You saw my mother's condition. It's not just for fun, like it is for you! I do it because I need that money to live, and to raise Angel and Gazzy. I do it because I _have _to."

I was ashamed to feel the prick of tears in my eyes, hating the way my voice raised an octave or two as my speech proceeded. It was to the point that I was shouting as I finished, raw emotion clear in my tone.

Fang stared wordlessly at me, not able to come up with a proper retort at the time. I simmered silently, waiting for him to say something- _anything_. As the minutes ticked by though, and he still hadn't uttered a word, I finally caved. My shoulders dropped of their own accord, and I found it suddenly unbearable to look him in the eye. The guilt was eating me alive, because I knew he didn't deserve my anger.

I still blamed him though . . . Like I said, it was easier.

"It doesn't matter anymore though. My career is over. I don't have anything to fight for anymore," I mumbled, my face ashen at the memories . . .

"So you're just going to give up because you lost?" Fang asked quietly, his voice -as always- smooth as velvet.

"I'm not giving up," I insisted bitterly, wiping at my itching eyes. "I just don't need the money it brings now. It's too late for that."

"What do you mean it's too late?" he demanded, some emotion finally coming to his tone. I took a chance and peeked up at him, flinching at the steely glint in his eyes. It was the look his mother always gave me, like I didn't deserve to be in her presence. Was that what he thought of me now?

"I had a deal with the land lord," I began to explain softly, my eyes filling with tears again. I tried to wipe them away before they could fall, but they just kept coming and coming, faster as I recounted what happened. "As long as I payed the rent, _on time_, she wouldn't call Social Services and report my mother. It's been like that for what seems like forever."

I stumbled slightly then, as the realization hit me full force for the first time. I felt my back pressing against the cold lockers as I continued in a shaky voice; "But with Angel being in the hospital, we were low on cash. I managed to pay off that bill, but we were only left with barely half of the rent. That fight was my last chance to get enough money. The rent was due by ten the next morning."

I felt myself slide to the ground; my knees growing too weak to hold me. I buried my face in my trembling hands, trying to hold back the tears for just a bit longer . . . just until he had time to leave me.

"She didn't waste any time calling, no matter how much I begged . . . and they didn't waste any time coming, either. I was frantic, trying to think of what to do. I packed bags, intending to take them and flee. At least then we would be together. My family is all that I have. I promised myself that when our dad left, I would always protect them. I failed, though. The officer's came . . . and they took them. I can still see them kicking and thrashing, screaming for me to help." I choked back a sob, pressing my fist to my lips for a moment to calm myself.

"They left me. I'll be eighteen soon, and I had taken care of myself for long enough. What use would throwing me into an orphanage be, when I would be leaving almost immediately anyway? It doesn't matter though, because they took them. They're feeding them to the system as we speak . . . and there's nothing I can do. I promised I would keep them safe, but I didn't. I failed them. If I had just tried harder, this wouldn't have happened. I tried blaming you, but I know it's my fault. Angel and Gazzy are gone because of _me_."

I couldn't contain it any longer. It was like a dam busting. The tears gushed forth in a torrent, tearing a fiery path down my face. I sobbed into my sleeve, biting my forearm in the hopes of quieting the choked sounds.

I didn't care that I was at school, and most certainly _way _late for class. I didn't care that _anyone _could walk by at that moment and see me in such a vulnerable state. I didn't care about anything other than the fact that they were gone, and I was suddenly helpless without them.

"Max," Fang whispered, his breath tickling my ear. I shrunk away from him, hiccuping like mad as I cried every tear I had ever held in.

My actions did not deter him. I felt him kneel in front of me, just before there were strong arms folding me against a firm, warm chest. I tried to resist. There was a part of me that still wanted to be mad at him. He was rich. He could have anything he wanted. He didn't need that money. Not like I did. He fought because it was something to do. I fought to survive.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated over and over again, holding me to him with an iron grip. I relented slightly, burrowing my head into his shoulder as I sobbed. My fingers clutched at his shirt, tangling in the black fabric. I needed something to anchor me; to distract me long enough to forget the pain.

"God, you're such an idiot," Fang mumbled at one point, still stroking my hair. It was the first non-comforting thing he had said, and I immediately pulled back in surprise, my head smacking against the metal locker with a resounding thud. I winced slightly, but the hurt was only momentary, and it quickly faded; only replacing the affliction in my chest for a few seconds.

"What?" I asked incredulously, shoving against his chest. I managed to force him back a few inches, allowing myself some room to breath. He rocked back on his heels, still gripping my arms. He was staring at me intently, his brow furrowed.

"You should have told me, instead of walking away like that," he insisted, a flicker crossing his eyes. The emotion was gone almost instantaneously though, and I wasn't able to identify it.

I glared at him numbly, unsure of where this could be going; or how it hardly mattered.

"Max, I would have given you the money. If ever you were in financial trouble, I'd _always _help you," he informed me softly.

"I'm not a charity case," I spat, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"Then you could pay me back," he said in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "Think of it as a loan."

I stared at him . . . and stared and stared and stared, my face completely blank and devoid of emotion. He returned my gaze in much the same manner, except he probably wasn't struggling to stay calm, holding back tears, like I was.

"You would do that . . . for me?" I inquired, my voice sounding strangely strained, like the anxiety was finally taking its toll.

"Of course I would," he said in that velvet smooth voice, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my jaw line, ever so lightly tilting my head in his direction. His dark, obsidian eyes glinted in the dull lighting of the hallway, making me shiver at their intensity.

"Why?" I had to ask, before he could distract me further.

"Because . . . I . . . " he said haltingly, blinking rapidly. He took a deep breath, opening his mouth to continue, before snapping it shut again as a disgruntled look flashed across his face.

"What?" I questioned, leaning forward so that our foreheads were pressed together.

"I . . ."

In the end he never did finish what he was going to say. Instead he kissed me, his lips gentle on mine. For just a few moments there wasn't a thought in my head that wasn't centered completely around _Fang_. The magic was lost though, as soon as his mouth lost contact with mine. I breathed in sharply, turning my face away as thoughts of Angel and Gazzy infiltrated my mind once more.

God, if you're up there, please tell me what I can do to get them back. _Please_. I'm begging you.

"Max?" Fang asked in concern, his hand prodding my chin back around to face him. I met his eyes, and an automatic understanding passed between us, no words needed.

He stood, holding his hand out to me. I took it gratefully and he hauled me to my feet. I wobbled there slightly, putting a hand to my head. I realized with faint embarrassment that I probably looked like a mess. I didn't cry much, but when I did, it wasn't pretty. Self consciously I smoothed down my mussed hair, surreptitiously turning my head so that Fang couldn't see me well. I really hoped the puffy redness around my eyes went away soon.

He led me out the front doors without making a comment. No one was around to try to stop us from leaving the school's grounds, so we made it to his car without complaint. As he started the engine my devious mind began plotting ways to kill the Social Service workers who had come to take my siblings. All the while I was also coming up with plans to get them back.

"Home, or my place?" Fang inquired, his gaze sliding to me for a second before he resumed studying the road.

"Home," I replied shortly. Yeah, like seeing his mother glare at me was going to make me feel better.

"Have you been to the hospital lately?" Fang asked out of the blue, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

"Not since the day before last . . . The afternoon of the fight, actually. I don't know if I can go back just yet. I'm afraid of what he'll be like," I answered honestly, biting my lip at the thought of Jared's accusatory look as they sedated him.

"He knows then?"

"Yeah . . . I told him. I thought it would be better coming from me, rather than some nurse or doctor that didn't actually care. I think right now he just wants to blame someone, and I'm afraid it might be me."

"It'll be okay. You just have to give him time to accept it," Fang replied nonchalantly.

I stared at him, wondering how he came up with exactly the right words to make me feel better, even if it only was a little bit. He was just so matter-of-fact in his reasoning's. It was hard _not _to believe him.

We didn't talk anymore the rest of the drive, and for some reason I enjoyed the silence. I was left to my thoughts too much now that Angel and Gazzy were gone. This time though, I found it strangely peaceful. Fang was here. Fang knew. Fang would help, that I was sure of.

When we entered the apartment I shuddered as I remembered, once again, all that had happened just a scant twenty four hours ago. Could it really be? It seemed like they had been gone a lifetime. The room was so barren without them. I hadn't touched the television since. It only reminded me of how Gazzy was always glued to it every second of every day.

The shrill ringing of the telephone broke me out of my reverie, and I was grateful for the interruption. The last thing I needed was a trip down memory lane. That only made it more painful.

"Hello?" I answered, glad to hear my voice sounding neutral and calm.

"Hello," the person on the other end said cheerfully. Their voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite place where I had heard it. "Is this Max?"

"Yeah," I said cautiously, flickering a glance at Fang. He raised an eyebrow, and I shrugged in response. "Who is this?"

"Oh, Max! It's so good to speak with you again. It's Anne Walker, from the gym."

And that's when my world finally spiralled out of control.

**Authors Note: I got totally in the zone while writing this! And sorry if it seems like Max forgave Fang a little too easily, after being so mad at him. She's all emotionl and stuff right now. Trust me though, she'll get her questioning in at some point. Most likely at the end, as I said before. **

**Also, I needed to add a fourth thing, and that was; Fang HAD to win the fight. Otherwise none of this would have happened, and there would be no story left. It would be over already. I'm aware that in the actual books, Max probably wouldn't have been overtaken by him, but for the sake of the plot and all, it has to be this way.**

**Please review! (:**


	26. Empty

**Authors Note: It's really good that you guys don't remember who Anne is in this story . . . considering she's never been mentioned before this. About two people seemed to get that, or else they were the only ones to mention it. Most everybody else commented on how they couldn't remember who she was. Maybe the gym reference confused you? Not the same one where Max worked. This is a different gym, as will be explained in this chapter.**

**Chapter Twenty Six:**

_**Empty **_

I was hard-pressed to drop the phone and run, but I kept a firm grip on reality so as not to appear weak. By Fang's inquiring look, I figured he had no idea I was speaking with one of the devil's main cohorts. He didn't realize I was now staring death in the face.

"Walker?" I demanded, clearing my throat.

"Yes," Anne said, bursting with enthusiasm. I pictured her as I saw her last; her hands clenched at her sides and her horns beginning to sprout from underneath her hair. "How have you been?"

"Just peachy," I replied sarcastically, but if she noticed, she didn't let on.

"That's great!" she exclaimed, making me grind my teeth at the high pitched whine.

"Was there something you needed, exactly?" I hadn't talked to any of those people in years. Not since I finally got smart and quit on them. They had been so mad I thought they'd never seek me out again. I guess I was wrong.

"Always one to get straight to the point, as usual," Anne said in a reminiscent tone. Yeah, like I wanted to sit and chat about the good ole' days with her. Nothing about that place brought good memories. _None_.

"Yeah, so can you do us all a favor and get to it?" I asked snarkily, imagining the way her lips were no doubt pressed into a thin line as she rubbed her temple; trying to stay calm. What can I say? I have that affect on people.

"A favor is what we're offering you, Maxine, so I suggest you be a bit more respectful," she said tightly, some of her perkiness disappearing.

"One; it's Max. Just Max. Two; I don't want any of your favors," I informed her blatantly, prepared to slam the phone back down. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to hang up on that witch.

"Even one that grants you ten thousand dollars?"

I stilled my movements, going completely immobile. My breath caught in my throat, and it took me a moment to reply.

"I'm listening," I conceded somewhat reluctantly.

"I thought you might," she said triumphantly, before continuing on to say; "Nationls are vastly approaching, and one of our best has been injured. We need you to take her place."

"And what does this have to do with the money?" My voice was hard. They wanted me to come back? No. Way. In. Hell. In fact; that place _was _hell. I wouldn't set foot in there again in a million years.

"Think about it, Max." It seemed to physically hurt her not to add the 'ine' onto my name. "You'll be a legal adult in a few months. Old enough to care and provide for your dear little siblings without worrying constantly about the law. You'll never win that battle without money though. Without a confirmation that you can actually take care of them. What better way to show that than bringing in ten grand?"

"What's the catch?" I demanded, my suspicions rising. I had made a fool out of them, abandoning them in the middle of my training. There was no way they would ever allow me back in, not unless there was something else to the equation.

"There is no catch," she insisted loftily.

"So that's it then? I show up, smile pretty, and then you fork over the cash?"

"The deal is that you train with us, as normal, until Nationls. All you have to do is participate. Show them that you have talent. If you place in the top three, we're willing to up our debt to you double," she explained.

"Twenty thousand dollars?" I choked out, gripping the table so I wouldn't keel over. "But . . . but why? _Why me_?"

"You're our only hope at giving our gym a good name once more. Max, you have so much bottled up talent. You could do so well. We . . . We need you," she admitted reluctantly, making me want to laugh.

"So in reality, I'd be doing _you _a favor. This is just your way of paying me off."

"Do you accept or not?" she asked harshly, not wanting to agree to the truth.

"I'll think about it," I answered honestly. "If I show up at the gym sometime tomorrow, you'll know. If not, so be it." I hung up before she could get another word in, dropping my head into my hands with a sigh.

"What was that about?" Fang asked, and I whirled around, gasping in surprise. I had totally forgotten he was there, listening to every word I said. He was giving me this look, one that demanded a full explanation.

"Uh . . . just some people from my . . . past; getting in touch again. It was nothing," I replied quickly.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing my story. "Offering twenty grand? I hardly call that nothing."

"It's a long story."

"I've got time," he replied easily, sitting down on the couch for effect. I sighed, rolling my eyes as I joined him.

"It's just something I did when I was younger," I started, deciding to dive right in. "My . . . dad was the one who suggested it. He was good friends with the owner of the gym. I can't really remember a time when I wasn't involved with it. Most of my childhood was filled with rigorous hours there. Training too hard for someone my age, or any age for that matter, should have been."

"Training for what?" Fang interrupted.

"Gymnastics," I admitted reluctantly, wincing at the memories I had long buried deep in my subconscious.

"You were a gymnast?" Fang asked with a snort, and I could see the amusement in his eyes. If only it was actually funny.

"You don't know what it was like," I grumbled, my eyes narrowing. My serious expression seemed to sober him up. "It was torture there. They took teaching to a whole new level. I used to call it the School from Hell; eventually shortened to just; the School. They were too serious about it. Once you reached a certain age, all the fun was sucked out of it."

I glanced up at Fang to seem him studying me intently.

"I kept going even after my _father_," I spat bitterly, "abandoned us. I don't know why. I hated it by that point. It was just . . . I don't know. It was something to channel my anger into. When I turned fourteen though, I couldn't take it anymore. Nationls were coming up, and everybody was being pushed to their limit to prepare. I finally snapped. I started screaming at them, telling them how psychotic and sick they were. I was tired of being treated like some experiment. I stormed out that day, and I haven't set foot in there since.

"It was just convenient that Jared discovered my talent shortly thereafter. I was a sullen, wise-cracking fourteen year old, who's mouth was always running. I was perfect for his purpose. He helped me in ways I couldn't imagine. He was absolutely nothing like the coaches from the School. He supported me, instead of beating me down even after I'd fallen."

Fang was silent for a minute, before finally saying; "And now they want you back?"

"I guess," I said with a sigh, sinking deeper into the coach cushions. "I just don't know what to do. They're offering me so much money for, in all honesty, so little. I don't know if I can force myself back in there, though. I'd have to face some of my worst nightmares . . . But Anne brought up a good point. It was probably planned. They know I can't refuse, not after dangling Angel and Gazzy in my face."

"What about them?"

"Twenty thousand dollars; ten at the least," I prodded. "It would be a giant step closer to getting them back. Plus, we'd be set for a _long _time."

"If you go back," Fang said with a nod, understanding.

"And isn't that the golden question," I mumbled, closing my eyes as I thought. There was pressure building behind my eyes, and I anticipated a large migraine growing there. Somewhere deep inside I knew I had already made my choice, but I would humor myself for a bit longer by pretending I was at a real stalemate.

I didn't know how much time passed after that. No words were spoken between Fang and I. We just sat in the comfortable silence, each lost in thought. I felt Fang's heated gaze on me, but I never opened my eyes. I was too busy running scenario's through my head.

I could wait until I was eighteen, and then adopt Angel and Gazzy back. There was the problem of money though. I didn't know what I could do if they brought up a legal case about it.

My only other choice was to compete at the competition as Anne asked, and collect my prize money. Then I could get my siblings back, and we would be set for life.

Waiting four months seemed like too long though. A lot could happen in such a long time. Angel and Gazzy could be adopted by someone else, or moved to an orphanage on the other side of the continent.

There was of course, the unspoken third option that kept whispering in the back of my head, but I refused to consider it for a moment. There was no way I would _ever _just abandon them. I would do whatever it took to get them back, even if it took me the rest of my life. I would fight for them, just like I always had.

"Max?" Fang's soft voice broke me out of my reverie, and I glanced up at him, blinking lazily.

"Mhm?" I asked, running a hand through my hair. I must have been nodding off, because my mind was slightly fuzzy and I was a bit groggy.

"It's getting late. I should go."

"Oh . . . right. Yeah," I muttered, disappointment lacing my tone.

"I'll talk to you later," he promised, bending down to my level as he stood. I felt his lips press against my temple, lingering there as his warm breath washed across my face. I closed my eyes, relaxing under his touch.

He was just opening the door to leave when the raw terror hit me. I jumped to my feet, racing towards him.

"Fang, wait!" I cried, and he paused as he stepped out into the hallway. He turned to face me, his eyebrow raised in silent question.

"I . . . I just . . ." I faltered. "I don't know if I can stay here all alone. It was nearly unbearable last night, when the pain was still fresh. It's just too empty, without Angel and Gazzy here. I would ask Nudge to come over, but she's busy enough with her own family matters. I . . . I just want . . ." I fumbled over my words. "Can you stay?"

Fang's eyes softened, and he slipped back into the apartment. The door closed behind him with a barely audible click, and I watched as he slid the deadbolt into place, locking out the rest of the world.

I breathed out a sigh of relief, immediately relaxing, knowing that I wouldn't spend another night with only my comatose mother as company. Fang gave me a small, lopsided smile, and I felt better almost instantaneously.

"Are you okay?" he inquired, stepping closer. "I mean, are you _really _okay?"

I breathed in deeply his scent as he folded me into his arms. I clung to him tightly, afraid he would disappear if I let him go for a second. He was quickly becoming all that I had left.

"I am now."

**Authors Note: Kind of short, I know. This was just a chapter where some much-needed information got out. It was also my clever (at least I think it is) way of putting the School into this story. Impressive, right? Anyway, gymnastics seemed like I good idea. My two younger sister's do it . . . and even though it **_**is **_**kind of prissy in my opinion, some of the stuff they do is pretty hardcore. It seemed kind of Max-ish. Better than a lot of other things, at least.**

**Revew! (:**


	27. Tremble

**Authors Note: One of the longer chapters. The rest of them are of pretty good length, I think. Last chapter will be the shortest one you get from here on out. How exciting (:**

**Chapter Twenty Seven:**

_**Tremble**_

For the first time in a long time I woke up feeling completely safe and secure. The emotion was so alien to me, that for a moment I forgot completely why I shouldn't wake up as such. I burrowed deeply into my pillow, taking a deep breath. I fought to open my eyes, but sleep was pulling me under once more. I was too warm; too comfortable, for any thoughts of moving.

But the silence pervaded my mind anyway, a sick reminder of all that had changed.

I blinked once; twice, trying to shed the wall of blackness from my eyes. Finally I raised my head, clearing my vision. I noted that my pillow was actually alive, a chest moving slowly with each breath.

"Fang?" I whispered, before clearing my throat. I said his name again, louder. He stirred slightly, his arms reflexively tightening their hold around me. I was pulled flush again his chest again as he shifted in his sleep. I couldn't contain the hot blush from creeping up the side of my neck.

I wrestled my hand free from where it was trapped against his torso, shaking his shoulder lightly. He shrugged it off, his brow furrowing in annoyance, but still he did not wake. I bit my lip to hold back the laughter bubbling deep in my throat.

"_Fang_!" I finally shouted, tired of lying in my cramped position. His eyes shot open, and in a flash my back was pressed to the couch cushion, his body hovering over mine protectively. My face exploded in a fiery haze of red, even more pronounced than my blush from beforehand.

"Max?" Fang asked, seeming slightly bewildered as to why I was there before him.

"Um . . . yeah," I mumbled in embarrassment, glaring to the side so that I wouldn't meet his gaze. "Can you get off me now?"

"Oh . . . sorry," he muttered, clambering to his feet. I managed to push myself into a sitting position, sliding my knees up to my chest. I let my hair fan out over my face, in a last resort to hide my blush from him, in case he had yet to notice. I could feel his hot stare on me though, burning a hole into my head. Finally I risked a glance at him, and almost groaned at the satisfactory smirk he wore.

We must have fallen asleep on the couch. I didn't remember much from last night, because nothing really happened. We just mostly sat in silence, occasionally swapping a few words, until my eyelids began to grow heavy.

"Are you hungry?" I asked suddenly, jumping to my feet. I brushed off the incident, deciding it was the least of my worries. "I can see what we have, though I won't make any promises. If you want, you can leave. I wouldn't blame you."

"If I wanted to leave, I would have been gone," he pointed out, his gaze still on me. I walked towards the kitchen, feeling his eyes on my back. Most of the flush had disappeared from my face, so I felt it was safe to turn to him.

"I'm still wondering about that."

He rolled his eyes, trailing after me. We made innocent small talk as I scrounged up what I could from the dank recesses of the cupboards and refrigerator. A few eggs and bowls of stale cereal later, I made my announcement.

"I'm going," I stated, staring him square in the eye as if I had something to prove to him. He wasn't the one that needed reassuring, though.

"I never doubted you would," he replied easily, knowing exactly what I was referring to.

"Would you come with me?" I inquired, letting my gaze drift elsewhere. I hated asking him for things, especially since I made him stay last night. I had gone from working alone, to always needing him at my side. What had I turned into? Where, and at what point, had my strong independence fled?

"Why?" It wasn't quite a confirmation, but he wasn't declining either.

"Because I know it'll piss them off," I replied with a shrug, smiling despite myself. They had strict rules about boyfriends and such. It was practically against the law in their book, but if they wanted me along for the ride, then they were going to have to make a few exceptions.

"I would never turn down a good opportunity for some piss off-ing," he said immediately, gracing me with one of his rare smiles. The dread slowly filling me didn't seem so bad after that.

. . . It didn't take long to return, though.

I glared up at the tall, imposing building before me, set right into the heart of the city. People bustled past us, jostling each other as they went. I gulped down a breath of the stuffy air, clawing at my clinging shirt, sticky with the beads of perspiration beginning to dot my forehead and lower back. So many bad memories were infiltrating my mind. I was reminded again and again of why I left, but also of why I must return.

"Max?" Fang's concerned voice broke through the endless steam of flashbacks haunting my head. I blinked slowly, my gaze focusing on him. He was standing by the entrance, one hand propping open the door. A rush of cool air escaped like a yawn, washing over me.

I nodded resolutely, not trusting my voice.

Once I stepped over the threshold I knew there was no going back. My mind was set. I wasn't going to fail, not when this brought me closer to Angel and Gazzy. I had failed them one too many times. I wasn't going to do that again.

The same whitewashed walls greeted me, pristine and bare aside from a shelf to the right full of trophies and medals, gleaming brightly. They winked at me from their pedestals, as if sharing some secret with each other.

I dragged my gaze away, focusing on the other aspects of the room. There wasn't much. Only a few chairs where the proud parents of the School's star gymnasts were supposed to wait. It was forbidden for them to watch the practices. They were extremely secretive, and for a reason. No parent should allow their children to go through that.

Some were occupied, and the people in them gave me questioning looks as they whispered in conspiratol tones under their breaths. I could tell some of them recognized me, shifting uneasily in their chairs. I was a bit of a legend here, so to speak.

"Come on," I muttered to Fang, wanting to escape their prying eyes. It wouldn't be long before they started actually speaking to me, wanting to know where I got the audacity to show up again after my rude, and seemingly final, retreat.

I hurried to a door on the other side of the room, slipping through into the next hallway. A few paces down was an elevator. I swallowed down any complaint I had and pressed the button, waiting impatiently. I had a feeling Anne would be somewhere in the main gym, but I figured I might as well check her office first. In truth, I was just buying my time, but I would never admit it aloud.

When the elevator doors eventually opened, spitting us out onto the fourth floor, I came face to face with one of the spawn of Satan. I had to control my expression carefully, making my demeanor cold and indifferent. It was either that, or show the weakness and fear I was really feeling. Something tells me trembling at her feet would only make things worse for me.

"Anne," I spoke icily, giving her a glare full of contempt. It said; I don't want to be here, but it seems I don't have a choice.

"Max," she replied in much the same tone, though she tried for a smile. "It's wonderful to see you." _Yeah right_.

"I can't say the same," I stated flatly, taking the moment in which she was shocked into silence to study her. She wore the same navy blue track suit she always had, free of any wrinkles, which just proved how little she actually did. The lines and planes of her face were rigid and fierce, her eyes boring a hole into mine. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail behind her head, absolutely perfect in every way. Her appearance was completely flawless, just how she liked it.

"I'm assuming since you have come, you have considered and accepted our _generous _offer." She put unnecessary emphasis on 'generous'. I wasn't stupid. I knew how much twenty grand was.

"For once, you're right," I replied offhandedly.

"I'm sure you remember the rules then. You must follow the training regimen to a 'T', while also keeping your grades up. You must treat the coaches with respect, and adhere to their instructions. We don't like distractions. For the remaining season until Nationals, you must be wholly focused on gymnastics. That means, _no boyfriends_." She shot Fang a bristling glare that made me want to laugh my head off.

"And we come to a problem."

"I hardly see how that's a problem," she snapped, gritting her teeth. I could see the first signs of impatience growing under her skin. I had been here for a scant three minutes and I was already getting on her last nerve. _Excellent_.

"I'm not one of your precious, brainwashed little princess's anymore. You can't expect me to do any of the above without complaint. I'll lay down the law nice and simple for you right now; I come every day, for two hours, and I do my _own _thing. Your coaches can give me pointers as they see fit, but I make no promises."

"I refu-" Anne began heatedly, fury clear in her eyes.

"And I see whoever the hell I want, whenever I want. You lost your control over me years ago. The way I see it; with my plan, we both get what we want. Me, my money; and you, your medal. There's nothing else to it."

"You speak as if this is any old competition. This is Nationals, Maxine. Do you not understand that? It won't be easy, even for you," she ground out, trying to regain her composure.

"I have talent, remember?" I reminded her sweetly, shoving past her. She fumed behind me, but made no move to follow. I gestured for Fang, and he stuck close to my back. As we retreated farther away from Anne, I knew I had gotten my way. For what was probably the first time, Anne had to give in.

She needed me . . . and she hated it. They all did.

"I'm impressed," Fang eventually said, breaking the silence between us as Anne faded completely into the background.

I shrugged and smirked. "Get used to it."

My smile faded though, as we encountered some of the more private training rooms. I bit back the bile in my throat, attempting to disguise the shudder that ran through me as I peered through the glass.

"They make you run," I said softly, my tone entirely different from that of the teasing before. I indicated the various treadmills' situated in intervals around the room. One was being used by a girl, probably around thirteen. She seemed to be going steady, but even I could see the way her legs shook as the speed increased. A coach stood by, clipboard in hand and an indifferent expression on his face. "They make you run, until you collapse. They have no sympathy for tears and pleading. You can beg for as long as you want. You'll finish their test until your body physically cannot bear it any longer."

"That's horrible," Fang murmured crossly, and I felt his hand gently tug mine from where it was pressed to the glass, my knuckles going white. I hadn't even realized I had moved.

"That's not even a fraction of it." My breathing was choked and strangled, my lungs screaming.

"Let's move on," Fang suggested, hugging me to his chest. He rubbed my back soothingly, waiting for me to calm down. I blinked back all the memories of falling; the exertion becoming too much, and nodded wordlessly.

I didn't speak again, but Fang was able to see the evil at work for himself. He didn't need my voice as a confirmation for the horror's he was witnessing. His back grew more rigid, his lips pressed together in a tight line. His eyes hardened to cold steel, and I questioned my actions towards bringing him. He shouldn't have to see what I went through. Nobody should.

At some point we left most of the cruel inner-working behind. Up ahead I could hear the soft roaring growing louder, and I knew we were approaching where most of the action happened. There were a few small gyms throughout the many floors, but the main base was located just ahead.

The whitewashed walls were quickly replaced by a plexiglass banister, allowing you to overlook the gym floor. We were still many floors up, giving us the perfect view of everything that was going on.

The immense size of the room still astounded me, but I recognized it all. Not much had changed since I left. The bars and beams were in the exact same place, all the areas clearly marked. There were girls springing across the vault, but no boys. The School didn't allow the male gymnasts to interact with the females. They thought it was just begging for secret, scandalous hook-ups. The sad thing was, they were probably right.

"Whoah," Fang couldn't help but mumble, but other than that he stayed perfectly emotionless.

"I know," I agreed haltingly. The familiar sight of it had acid pooling in my stomach. I had spent countless years here, working myself to bits and pieces. Time I would never get back. "Let's go down."

Fang's hand stopped me, his gaze firm and unwavering. "Are you sure?"

"Can't exactly put it off for much longer," I admitted with a resigned sigh. "And besides, I want to see some old friends."

"Friends?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Enemies, actually," I said with a snort. "I never got along with the girls here. They probably hate me even more, since I abandoned them all. Plus, they were always jealous. Things just came easily to me, where as they had to work their butt's off to get even half as good."

"Do you think they'll make it hard for you? Transitioning back in and all."

"Hell yeah. They won't forgive easily, so it's a good thing I'm not asking for forgiveness. I could care less what they think about me. I never did before. That won't ever change."

Fang smirked, shaking his head so that his dark hair obscured my view of his eyes. Without thinking thoroughly I reached up and brushed the strands away, smiling back. He grasped my hand in his, pressing it to the side of his face. We stood like that for a few more moments until I finally stepped away.

"Might as well get this over with."

We took the stairs this time. My nerves were too shaky to risk the elevator. Plus, I needed the extra time to think. Obviously, by now I had figured out -yes- the pain this would bring me _was _worth it. It didn't make it any easier though. I wasn't as confident in my abilities as I projected, but just being at the competition guaranteed me an easy ten grand. A deal like that was foolish to refuse. The extra ten was just a way to make me push harder.

It took awhile for the murmurs to spread, but once they caught, they were a wildfire that was impossible to consume. I picked my way through the equipment, ignoring the astonished stares people shot me left to right. Their whispers barely affected me. Some were familiar faces, those I knew personally. They were usually the ones with the spiteful, hate filled glares. The others had just heard of me, and could barely contain their admiration. I was everything they were afraid to be. I was the embodiment of what they wish they could do; a symbol of strength and courage for those hiding dreams to escape the clutches of the School- to be free of their cages.

It was pretty cool.

Eventually people backed off, once they saw I was just observing. The girls resumed as normal, traipsing away. Their gazes still lingered on me time from time, their questions as to why I was present barely contained.

We made it to one of the three mats where floor routines were done. There was a lone figure standing in the middle of the blue space, stretched out and waiting for her cue. Music slowly began to drift from unseen speakers, slow in tempo. I couldn't help but halt to watch, and I felt Fang still beside me as well.

"One thing I always hated about gymnasts," I started, still examining the girl as she spun around the floor, flipping twice in an intricate spiral before landing lightly on her feet, "was how prissy you always have to be. They expect you to walk in a certain way, and perform perfectly. There's no room for mistakes. It makes most of the gymnasts haughty and self centered . . . But then you see them jump into the air like that, flipping a dozen times, and you realize how hardcore it is at the same time. When you commit to this, you're putting your life on the line. One wrong move and you've got your neck snapped in two. _Dead_."

Fang didn't make a comment, and I didn't look up to see what sort of expression he was wearing. Probably just his regular, blank mask.

"Then you have people like her," I stated, gesturing to the girl as the music faded softly and she became perfectly still in her position.

"You know her?" Fang asked, sounding faintly surprised.

"Sadly," I replied grimly. There was no mistaking that mop of red hair, or those flashing green eyes. Even from this distance she was hard to mistake.

I set my shoulders, mentally preparing myself. It seemed like the best approach to this was working from the top and down. I'd start with the hardest people, and then ease myself to the simple.

I stepped onto the mat, making my way easily to where she stood with her back to me, deep in discussion with one of the coaches. I felt more than heard Fang hovering protectively behind me.

"Lissa," I said distastefully, interrupting whatever the coach was about to say.

Lissa spun around in surprise, her eyes wide. My own narrowed of their own accord. It was reflex, I suppose. The sight of her made me absolutely sick. If there was anyone who disgusted me more than Dylan or my low-life father, it was her.

"Max?" she seethed, her jaw clenching.

"Long time, no annoy."

"I was thinking the same thing," she snarled, hands on her hips.

"Ooh, scary," I intoned, holding my hand to my heart in mock fright before I crossed my arms over my chest.

Her gaze briefly left mine, flashing somewhere over my right shoulder. Her eyes widened perceptively, and a cunning smile graced her freckled face. She batted her eyelashes in what I assumed was supposed to be a seductive way, and said; "Who's your friend?"

"I don't see how that matters," I said in a deadly tone, gritting my teeth. If Fang wanted his throat still intact he would keep his mouth shut, which would mean me refraining from ripping it out.

"I know a hot guy when I see him. Which begs the question, why is he with you?"

My eyes flashed dangerously, and I took a step towards her. The coach that had wandered away at some point during our conversation was suddenly at Lissa's side again, her look reprimanding. I rolled my eyes, snorting in contempt.

"Maybe you should leave now, Ms. Ride. We only have room for serious gymnasts here," the coach said defiantly, as if daring me to retort.

I had opened my mouth to do just that when a sharp noise interrupted me. I swung my gaze around to Fang in annoyance, as he fished his cell phone out of his pocket. He smirked at my obvious displeasure, making my frown deepen.

"Yo," he said into the phone after checking the caller ID. I vaguely heard the sound of Iggy's frantic voice on the other line. By the way Fang's face paled considerably, I knew it wasn't good news.

"What?" I demanded, grabbing his arm. He handed me the phone wordlessly, his expression grim. 

"Max?" Iggy inquired when I finally nestled the device to my ear.

"Iggy, what the hell is going on?" I nearly shouted, beginning to shake slightly. I didn't like not knowing things.

"They tried to reach you, but they couldn't. It eventually got through to me. God, I'm so sorry Max. There wasn't anything they could do. It was too quick. He knew exactly what he was doing. Fully aware. They don't know how he could possibly have the gun. Someone must have smuggled it in for him. He pulled the trigger himself, when no one was around, in the middle of the night. Bullet straight to his brain. They say he died instantly." Iggy's voice was pained, full of grief.

My breathing was coming irregularly, and I found it hard to stand. "Who?" I managed to whisper. "_Who_?

As Iggy uttered his name I felt the last remnants of my world crash down around me. I felt the phone slip through my fingers, barely making a thump as it hit the ground.

I trembled as I collapsed, dead to the world . . . just like him.

**Authors Note: Cliffhanger! Whoop, whoop. You know what that means. Review to get the next chapter, or else I'll refrain from posting it for quite some time. None of us would like that, would we? **


	28. Fragile

**Authors Note: Good feedback on the last chapter. Thanks so much (:**

**Chapter Twenty Eight:**

_**Fragile**_

I sat, staring blankly at the wall across from me. I studied the pattern of the wallpaper carefully, over and over again; discerning lines and spirals I had never noticed before. I filed away all the crumbling spots, where it was peeling away from the wall, showing all that lay beneath. In a lot of ways it captured my life perfectly; still slightly intact, but falling apart at the edges, to the point where I was no longer whole.

I felt soft hands on my shoulders, breaking me of my unresponsive state. Slowly I turned my head, meeting a pair of obsidian eyes. Recognition flickered, but it took me a moment to put a name to that face.

_Fang_.

"It's time to go, Max," he said softly, gently bringing me to my feet. He handled me carefully, like I was a delicate porcelain doll, only a moment of rough handling away from shattering.

I didn't remember much of the last few days. I had no recollection of leaving the gym, or anything that transpired after. Little snippets of memory; a gray sky here, the vinyl of a car there, invaded my thoughts frequently, but I struggled to remember much else. My mind always strayed back to that moment in which my fragile hold on what was left of my reality crashed, fragmenting like broken glass. Iggy's voice played in my head, as if stuck on an endless loop. I could still hear him, clear as day, telling me that he was dead . . .

That he had killed himself.

"Max?" This voice was new, different. It didn't belong to Fang. I blinked, turning to face the door. A younger girl, perhaps by a few years, stood in the entrance, her shoulders hunched. Her skin was a light mocha color; clad in a somber black dress.

_Nudge_.

"Anything new?" she asked, this time moving her head to address Fang.

Out of my peripheral vision I saw him shake his head sadly, a permanent grimace marring his handsome features. The fact that he was decked out in all black wasn't anything new, but he was still dressed up rather nicely. My brain furiously tried to process this. Where was everybody going?

"Maybe it's too soon. Seeing that won't be good for her," Nudge insisted, her lower lip trembling as she turned her wide, anguished eyes on me. Her warm brown eyes turned glassy with tears, and my brow slightly furrowed. Why did she cry?

"She needs closure. It's the only way she'll get back to normal," Fang argued, his slack grip on my waist tightening. My confusion grew. Was I acting different than usual?

Nudge sighed. "You're probably right . . . But what if she doesn't? Get better, I mean. What if she stays like this. It's not healthy. Maybe she needs help. More so than we can give her."

"What are you suggesting?" The anger in Fang's tone was unmistakable.

"There are places she can go; people she can see. She'll get better faster." My bewilderment at this point was reaching a peak. I felt fine. The hollow emptiness inside still ached, but what use did I have for getting better? Nothing could make the feeling go away.

"She's just in shock. She'll be fine without any psychologists and psychotic doctors trying to pick apart her brain," Fang seethed, sending Nudge a hair raising glare. I gave her credit for standing her ground, but I was becoming fed up with them talking about me like I wasn't standing_ right there_.

"Stop." I almost cringed at the grating sound of my voice. It was like sandpaper being rubbed together, rough and crackling.

Two pairs of anxious eyes swung to stare at me. I glared back petulantly, folding my arms across my chest. My anger was refueling my emotion, giving me strength to replace the emptiness inside me. It was reduced to a dull ache as I forcefully shoved thoughts of him to the back of my mind.

"Max?" they both said at the same time, relief clear in their tones.

I cleared my throat before speaking again. "I don't appreciate you talking about me as if I'm not present."

"She's back!" Nudge wailed happily, a grin stretching across her face in earnest. Even a small smile slipped across Fang's face as he swung me up into a hug that turned the corners of my mouth upward also.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I don't know what happened . . ." I trailed off as the burning image of him lying dead with a bullet through his brain came back to me full force. My voice must have faltered, because Fang smoothed down a stray piece of my hair soothingly, his expression concerned.

"It's okay . . . just don't . . . just don't ever do that to me again," he whispered low enough that Nudge couldn't hear. "I was so worried."

"I'm sorry," I repeated. Now it seemed silly that I was so catatonic, just as my mother was. I had briefly lost my grip on the world, but I was back on my feet again. I was strong. I was still Maximum, able to beat all but one. I needed to get ahold of myself. Moping and acting as if the apocalypse had descended would do nothing.

"Nudge, you go ahead with your mom. We'll follow," Fang directed, and Nudge nodded assent with surprisingly few words, whirling before she disappeared down the hall.

"Follow where?" I asked, feeling stupid, like I should know exactly what we were doing.

He hesitated, swallowing to buy his time. I was immediately wary. He noticed my change in expression and tried for a small smile, but the effect was wasted on my growing caution.

"Where?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips.

"I . . ." Fang trailed off, grimacing. He then gestured to me, and I looked down to see what was wrong. I hadn't really noticed before, but someone had changed me . . . Into a dress. A black dress, that hugged my every curve, billowing out slightly at the waist, where it rested just above my knee.

"Who-?" I began to ask, when Fang quickly answered.

"Nudge's mom was over. Don't worry, it wasn't me."

"Well why is everybody dressed like they're going to a . . ." The realization clicked into place and I began to tremble. My knees locked and I lost my balance, frozen in shock, "funeral . . ." I finished in a hushed whisper.

Fang caught me before I hit the ground, holding me to him. No tears came to my eyes, which I was thankful for, but I still felt like I had been hit with a ton of bricks.

"His funeral's today, isn't it?" I inquired in a strangely calm voice.

"Yeah," Fang replied shortly, watching me carefully.

I regained what scraps of my composure still remained, standing on my full weight. I straightened my shoulders as best as I could, taking a discreet deep breath. Turning to the door I walked slowly, picking up the black jacket someone -most likely Nudge's mom- had left me. I shrugged it on methodically, and noticing the heels by the door, I slipped them on, too.

"Let's go then," I murmured, not looking up at Fang. "We don't want to be late."

"Max . . ." he said gently, coming to stand in front of me. I gazed up into his dark eyes sadly; subdued. There was nothing I could do about it, I realized with utterly clarity. He was gone, and I could no longer prevent that.

"I'm fine," I promised blankly.

He gave me his signature searching look, as if staring deep into my soul. Whatever truth he found there seemed to satisfy him for the time being, because he quit looking at me like I was bound to fall apart at the seams any minute. With a small sigh he brushed his fingertips against my cheek, bending down slightly until his lips pressed against mine with the lightest of pressure. I returned the gesture, placing my hand on his shoulder.

When we broke apart I looped my arm through his, trying to put on a brave face. He led me out silently, the pair of us a dark parade. All through the building doors stayed closed, but I felt the people's presence through the thin walls. No matter what tragedy would occur in my life, there's would stay the same. It didn't influence them one bit.

But I also knew something they didn't. They could go on living their lives, completely ignorant to another's trouble, but there was a thin line between bliss and the rocky precipice of turmoil. Darkness was always lurking just around the corner, striking when you least expect it.

There was a lot of murky shadows in my life. That was just how the cards were dealt. Some had less then others, and it was impossible to prepare for . . . But it would happen. It was inevitable.

As we exited the apartment complex I felt as if a hundred eyes were on my back, but a quick glance behind proved my theory to be wrong. Even as we drove though, the pavement racing beneath us, I couldn't shake the feeling that I as being watched, possibly by the eyes of the ghosts of my past.

All too soon we arrived, and I panicked silently. Was I ready for this? Was I prepared to watch as they lowered him into the ground, never to return? Could I stand to watch as he was buried under dirt and stone, nothing but an empty shell, no longer breathing life?

"Max?" Fang asked quietly, extending his hand. I hadn't noticed that he had retreated from the car, already at the passenger door, beckoning for me. I was still too frozen in fear; fear of my own self-restraint.

"I don't think I can do this," I breathed, gulping down as much air as possible. Was I going to hyperventilate?

"Yes you can," he insisted in that strong, self-assured tone I had come to rely on. "You can do anything you set your mind to."

"Not this," I admitted, turning my wide, frightened gaze on him.

"Gazzy and Angel will be there," he informed me. "They let them come, because they were close to him."

"Really?" A small piece of hope blossomed inside me. If they were at my side, I could endure this.

Fang nodded, once again reaching his hand to me. This time I took it without hesitation, allowing him to lift me from the car. I took a deep breath of the icy air, laced with the smell of dead leaves and browning vegetation. It wouldn't take long for the snow to begin falling, and we'd be soon launched in a perpetual world of whiteness. Maybe a few more weeks.

"This way," Fang said, leading me in the right direction. The fallen leaves crunched beneath our feet, invading the welcoming silence with their piercing notes. A slow, cold wind blew, making the trees shiver where they had taken root.

As we got closer I saw the few figures standing around a certain grave site. Nudge and her mom were there, standing off to the side a bit. They were aquaintances with him through me, and I'm sure they felt like outsiders amongst his family. I smiled sadly at them as I passed, and Nudge's mom squeezed my hand in comfort.

There were a few people I didn't know, some of his friend's maybe, who were all frowning to themselves. I approached his mother and father as they wept. His mom clutched to me tightly in a hug, her sobs muffled by my shoulder. His dad patted my back sadly, looking haggard. I didn't know the two well, but they did love him, no matter what his choices were.

Then I caught a glimpse of windswept blonde curls, and I turned in that direction quickly. Gazzy and Angel, looking small and forlorn, came into sight, accompanied by a brisk looking woman in a business suit. When they saw me they began to run, their tiny feet pounding on the path. I saw the disapproving look on the social security worker's face, but she made no comment.

I bent at the knees just as Gazzy, being faster than his sister, reached me, barrelling into my arms with a sob. I hugged him fiercely, breathing in his boyish scent. When Angel came I made room for her to join the embrace, and her skinny arms wound around my waist with an almost painful strength. I didn't mind, though.

"Your casts are all gone," I whispered to Angel, and she smiled blindingly up at me, nodding her head eagerly. I guess we all did heal at a rather fast rate. Good genes, I suppose.

"I took good care of her," Gazzy said proudly, his grip never slackening from around my neck, "just like I promised."

"I wouldn't doubt it," I sniffled, reminded of my _own _promise to keep them safe. "I think you two have grown since the last time I saw you," I tacked on sadly, noting their height difference.

We talked for a little more in quiet tones, them telling me all about the orphanage. They didn't make it seem like a vile, rotten place, but they didn't appear happy either.

All too soon our time to speak was cut short, as the funeral began. We all gathered at the edge of his glistening coffin, my throat becoming thicker as each second ticked by. I tuned out for most of the priest's words, only staring at the closed casket. It consumed my entire vision, allowing nothing else to break through. At one point I willed myself to glance somewhere else, but my sight only landed on his gravestone, making me shudder in the dying light of dusk. It read;

_**Jared Morgan  
1984-2010  
Beloved son, husband, father and friend**_

I couldn't help the tears then. I felt one slide slowly down my face, but I didn't have enough energy to wipe it away. Angel was crying by that point too, and Gazzy was trying to hide his hiccups. I clutched them both to my side, holding them tightly.

My vision blurred as the moisture in my eyes built before slowly trickling away in a steady stream. I didn't make a sound as I cried silently. I was aware of Fang hovering nearby. When he saw the state I was in he shuffled over, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I turned my head, burying it in the crook of his neck, Angel squished between us.

The priest droned on, his words coming together in a jumble of words I couldn't understand. I went through the process numbly, waiting to escape. Finally, the casket was lowered into the earth, and I whispered a final farewell, something inside me splintering at the idea of his cold, lifeless body being all alone down there, rotting away.

With one last word our procession began to depart, wandering in different directions. Then all talking between us ceased, dread settling in the pit of my stomach. Everyone grew intensely quiet as a lone figure stepped out from the trees by the side of the path, his head hung low and his hands stuck in his pockets. Whispers rose like the soft wind, confused and biting.

"What's he doing here?" Fang murmured to me.

"I have no idea," I admitted, warily watching Dylan as he traversed across the land separating him from the rest of us. His face was filled with grief, completely unlike his usual cocky, arrogant attitude. He showed genuine despondency at his brother's death, contradicting what he had said before about only getting lucky if he were to die.

Dylan didn't say anything, he just stared down at his brother's grave. I wondered briefly what was going through his head, but tossed the thought aside. I probably didn't want to know. I was just turning away when I saw a single tear escape the corner of his eye, dripping down his chin, and that's when I knew. Most of his tough guy persona was just an act. Most of the things he said, weren't true. He was just as vulnerable as the next guy, just better at being an asshole to cover it.

I quickly turned the other way, before I could get any other ideas. This new revelation didn't excuse what he had done in the past. It didn't make him a better person. Besides, I had long ago decided to stop making excuses for him. In fact, I had all but promised Jared so. I would stick to that, as if it was his last dying wish.

I shared a sorrowful, tearful goodbye with Angel and Gazzy, promising them we would be reunited permanently soon. I shared with them my money-making opportunity, and the hope in their eyes was enough to seal my reluctance.

From behind me someone said my name, and I glanced up from my hug with Angel, turning my head to see a familiar man. A look of bewilderment crossed my features as I tried to recall who he was. Those eyes were eating away at me, and that was when I made the connection. The man I was staring at, whose name I now opened my mouth to utter; _Jeb Batchelder_.

My father.

**Authors Note: *Sniffle* Poor Jared. **

**On a seriously **_**serious **_**note; I'm not sure if you've noticed yet, but with this story I'm trying to get out a message about some serious issues. Does having to make money under some . . . unfortunate circumstances seem familiar? Does dealing with the pain of an abandoning parent ring a bell? Does having a parent being a drug addict also sound like something you've heard before? Does dealing with someone you know committing suicide offer any memories to be resurfaced in your mind?**

**All of the above happen in real life, to people all around you. Sometimes it's hard to anticipate or decipher, but it's there. Maybe somebody you know is going through something similar. Maybe **_**you're **_**going through it, too. This is sort of my way to raise awareness, and to give a warning not to be ignorant and judgemental of someone, because at the end of the day, you might not know exactly what they have to go home to. You don't experience the things they do.**

**So think about all these unfortunate things that happen to Max in this story, and realize that **_**real people **_**go through the same thing **_**every day**_**.**


	29. Guilt

**Authors Note: A slight drop in reviews for last chapter, although those who did seemed to get what message I was trying to get across. I'll also apologize in advance for the way this chapter skips from one major thing to the next, so quickly, but I don't want to drag stuff on longer than need be. Anyway, read on.**

**And remember; next chapter is the last one. Can you believe that?**

**Chapter Twenty Nine:**

_**Guilt**_

"Jeb," I stated in an emotionless tone, glaring at him with enough heat to sear his own retinas beyond use. Despite this, he neither flinched nor looked away, standing his ground defiantly.

"Maxine," he said warmly, giving me a wide smile. I frowned at this, my eyebrows pulling together.

"It's Max, actually," I said scathingly, giving him my most fearsome look.

"You were born with the name Maxine, therefore I will call you Maxine . . . or perhaps Maximum would be more towards your taste?" he inquired, moving closer surreptitiously. I noticed though, as soon as he shifted his weight. As far as I was concerned this was just the same as any old fight, him being my enemy. He deserved my full attention, as I waited for him to strike.

"Maybe," I replied nonchalantly, not letting my shock at his knowing my fighting name shine through my carefully cultivated blank exterior.

"Max?" Angel's small voice reached my ears, as her tiny hand slipped into mine. I glanced down to see her standing at my side protectively, her brow furrowed as she stared at Jeb. Was there something lying dormant inside her, some instinct saying this man was her father?

"Angel," I said in a low, controlled tone. The look in Jeb's eyes softened as he stared down at Angel, and I had to press my lips together in a tight line so as not to let the growl I could feel building in my throat escape, "please go with your brother. I promise I'll see you soon."

"Okay, Max," she whispered, her hand slipping away from mine. I stood, clutching empty air, a pang swallowing deep into my soul. Something about the loss of her touch made me feel even more guilty. I tore my gaze away from Jeb long enough to watch my siblings as they left, turning back only once to wave before they were both out of sight.

"I see many things have changed since I . . ." He stopped, not wanting to admit to his leaving.

"Since you abandoned us," I finished for him, turning my cold, calculating glare on him with a renewed force.

"I didn't abandon you," he said softly, bringing his hand up like he was going to touch me. I flinched away, taking a precautionary step back, so he couldn't reach me. Something flickered in his eyes as his hand dropped to his side once more.

"Oh really? What do you call walking out on us, then?" I snarled.

"I don't expect you to understand, Maximum," he said gravely, his tone taking on a new quality. A resigned look came into his eyes as he realized this meeting was not going as planned. What did he think I was, the same Daddy's little girl I had been before he left? Obviously he hadn't anticipated the depth of my hatred for him; this coward before me.

"Then why are you here?" I demanded, crossing my arms in front of my chest. Vaguely I was aware that Fang was somewhere nearby, hovering on the edges. He was probably listening very intently to our conversation, but I couldn't find the will within me to care. "Why now?"

He stayed silent.

"Was the guilt finally getting to you?" I inquired, intent on making him squirm. "Was the realization that you walked out on your family finally becoming too much to bear?"

"Maximum-" he began, growing defensive.

"I really hope you're not here looking for reconciliation, because that's one thing you'll never receive. I won't ever forgive you for what you've done, so don't even think of asking." My voice was poised and deadly, each word another knife to his wound. I could see the deep impact my words had on him, as he struggled to reimburse his calm facade.

"They called me," he admitted, suddenly looking worn and tired. There was a certain hollowness to his eyes that had never been there before.

"Who?" I snapped sharply, my tone flinty.

"The School," he said. I couldn't help but smirk at his use of my name for the gym. He had heard me say it a dozen times as a child, never actually knowing the meaning behind the words. He had sort of adopted it as his own name for the place as well.

"So? I hardly see how it concerns you."

"They told me about your agreement. They thought I'd like to know you were starting up again, that you would be going to Nationals alongside their best gymnasts," he explained roughly, running a hand through his graying hair.

I stared at him coldly, waiting for him to continue.

"They asked me to be there, to cheer you on . . . Gymnastics; it was our thing. I just thought that since you had started again . . ." he trailed off uselessly, a deep sigh reverberating through him.

"What? That everything would suddenly be okay? That I had woken up one morning and decided that what you did wasn't wrong? That you didn't leave us for the _dead_, never once looking back?"

"Ma-" he began to say, this time not hesitating as he stepped forward. I slapped his hand away before it could come in contact with my arm, blinking back the tears burning in my eyes.

"Don't ever try to contact me, or _any_one else in my family again. Do you understand? I _will _hurt you if you even go _near _them, and if you think that's low, you're wrong. As far as I'm concerned you can say that biologically you're my dad, but you're _not _my father. Don't ever think any different," I ordered seriously, my barely contained rage leaking into my words, morphing them into individual hostile strikes.

I turned my back to him before he could get in another word, not being able to stand to hear his excuses, or look at his despicable face for a second longer. The impossibility of seeing him for the first time in years was finally settling in. Before I had been _too _shocked at his sudden appearance to really dwell on my surprise, but it was slowly trickling back in each step I took.

"You have a brother, Max," I heard Jeb say softly, sounding completely drained. I took one more step before stiffening, my back still to him. "A half brother, actually. His name is Ari. He's only seven . . . He'd really like to meet you someday."

"Come on, Fang," I said in a voice devoid of emotion, motioning for him from where he stood, an appropriate distance away from where Jeb and I had had our face off.

We walked to the car in silence, never once looking back. Fang didn't try to broach the subject, even as we were arriving at my house once again. He knew I would tell him on my own terms.

I myself was still trying to understand what had happened. Jeb, who I hadn't heard from since the moment he left, suddenly decided to come back? For what? I wasn't buying his crap story about the gymnastics. He probably had an ulterior motive. Maybe he thought getting back on my good side would ensure him a piece of my prize money, which I was now more than ever intent on receiveing.

And what was this about a half brother? It didn't surprise me that Jeb had moved on from my mother. In fact, a love affair with his new wife may have been his whole reason for abandoning us in the first place. But a child produced from it? I never would have thought.

Either way, I hoped he enjoyed his new perfect family while it would last. I hoped, for the sake of that child, he was the father he was supposed to be. No one deserved what my brother and sister had gotten. A drug addict for a mother, a runaway father, and a sister unable to keep her promises. Ari, whatever he was like, could revel in his comforts. I wouldn't hold him to blame. It wasn't his fault, only Jeb's.

I was paranoid after that. Everywhere I went I imagined I was seeing Jeb around every corner. Even when I went to Leroy's gym for the first time since Jared's death, I thought I caught a glimpse of him in the dank, musty room. I never went back after that. Too many haunting memories of Jared still lingered there. I officially resigned my position with Leroy, which didn't seem to bother him much. When I was leaving though, he said the last thing I would have ever expected.

He was going to miss me.

I plunged myself fully in my training at the School. I had nothing better to do, after all, but focus on the the ultimate prize. That twenty thousand _would _be mine. I think Anne was most surprised by my sudden interest in abiding by almost all of their rules. I did my best in school, and for four hours every day after, I was there, working my butt off. She seemed almost, dare I say it, proud?

Fang helped with my other expenses. For the first time in a long time I'd wake up and be able to have cereal that wasn't stale, and milk that _wasn't _spoiled; two weeks after its expiration date. I kept a strict log of all the money he spent, even if he did roll his eyes and tell me it was okay, that he would do whatever I needed for free. That was usually when I smacked him upside the head and he muttered something about Iggy being right, that I was in a state of non-stop PMSing . . . I punched Iggy the next time I saw him, too.

Time flew, in a mixture of the School and regular school. I went straight back and forth, rarely lingering elsewhere. I could tell it bothered Fang, my unwavering intensity, so after awhile I tried to lighten up. He didn't seem reassured, but he didn't saying anything either. I think he might have been afraid I was becoming too attached to the sport again, that I was beginning to love it as I had when I was younger. That time, however was brief, and I resented it all the same. As soon as Nationals were over, I would be done for good.

At one point, I was absolutely positive I had seen Jeb. I was working on my floor routine, trying desperately to get every move impeccably perfect as Lissa watched on snidely, though her jealousy was obvious as well. I was in the middle of my full when I caught a glimpse of him as I whirled through the air; watching from a few floors up. When I landed though, and whipped my head around to the place he had been, all I saw was empty space.

The day of Nationals came more quickly that I anticipated.

I was sure Jeb was somewhere in the cavernous room, cheering along with all the other proud parents, but in the thick crowds, I would have no way of knowing for sure. With my gym bag at my side and other jostling gymnasts all around me, I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, locking it away. I didn't have time to dwell on that; and so what if he was here? It didn't affect me.

I was alone for most of the proceedings after that. I was completely alienated from the rest of my team, them wanting to have nothing to do with me. My sentiments were the same, so I didn't bother trying to include myself. Instead I got my number as usual, stored my stuff where it all belonged, and then wandered until I was needed.

Chattering girls surrounded me, gushing at the sight of any male that came within their vision. I rolled my eyes, shoving my way through their ranks. Girls like them miffed me.

Since I still had some more time to myself I lingered around the tables piled high with merchandise, scanning the racks of leotards and other attire. I spent a few minutes at a stall laden with t-shirts, each reading a different joke about gymnastics. Most of them weren't that amusing, but being the sarcastic person that I am, I could see the appeal.

Eventually I moved on. I was poking around a clump of some more leotards, when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Not a second later there were a pair of lips at my ear, murmuring; "That would look good on you."

I glanced up sharply, dropping the piece of cloth in my hand. I whirled, coming face to face with a smirking Fang. I immediately relaxed, throwing my arms around his neck. Over his shoulder I saw a pretty, smiling girl begin to frown, as she stopped in her movements towards Fang. She sighed, turning away resolutely, scanning the crowd for her next victim. Ew. I couldn't help but feel a bit smug, and I wasn't the only one.

"Miss me?" Fang whispered haughtily, as his arms wound around my waist. His hugging had really improved since the first time way back when Angel had been hit by that car. The thought made me smile and frown at the same time, if that was even possible.

I snorted at his words, keeping a firm grip on him.

When I finally pulled away he kept his arms loosely around me, his dark eyes glistening. He gave me a searching look as I tried for a semi-convincing smile.

"Nervous?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I opened my mouth to say something along the lines of. '_of course not!_'. The words were on the very tip of my tongue, but what came out was entirely different from that.

"Yes," I admitted, biting my lip.

"Well don't be," he said, pressing his lips to my forehead in comfort.

"It's just . . ." I began insistently, feeling the need to justify my actions. "I don't know. I'm supposed to be really strong and confident, right? I mean, I'm fricking Maximum for God's sake. I can take fully grown men in combat, but when I get here amongst all they frilly, spiteful teenage girls its like all my willpower just crumbles."

Fang nodded knowingly, like he knew exactly what I was feeling.

"All through training -_heck_- ever since I got the phone call from Anne, I've always been so sure of myself; like I couldn't fail. Now that I'm here though . . . I don't know if I can do it."

Fang was the only person in the world I would ever admit this to. He was the only one allowed to see me so vulnerable, so unsure of my capabilities.

"It's okay to feel that way," Fang assured me. "But it doesn't matter, because _I_ know you can. _Everyone _at the School knows you can. Angel and Gazzy know you can . . . and deep down inside, _you _know you can, too."

Damn him.

"I should probably go. Events are about to start," I said sullenly.

"You'll be fine," he insisted, pressing his lips to mine briefly. Then he was gone, melding into the crowd of people hurrying to get last minute seats. I stood alone for a moment, my fingertips brushing my lips, where the ghost of his touch still lingered.

I was almost barrelled over by a woman rushing to get into the arena, which was enough to break me of my state. I followed along much slower, entering cautiously. I joined where the other gymnasts of the School stood, mumbling a quick 'hello' to the coach standing nearby. She nodded to me, scribbling something on the clipboard in her hand.

And then it started.

I was painfully aware of everything going on throughout the rest of the day. It surprised me how much I still remembered about the process. It had been so long since I competed, but I found myself remembering just what to do and say.

I didn't disappoint. I was in the top three for most of the events, stealing the show in all I did. My rebel edge was giving me the upper hand. Everybody wanted to know my story. I was the one to look out for, or at least according to the announcers I was. To the audience I was interesting, the one with a conflicted background, come out of a three year retirement and still going strong. Word spread that I had only trained for a few weeks. Reporters were constantly jumping on me every second I got to myself.

People wondered how I was so good, with so little preparation.

Before I knew it my day from Hell was coming to a close. Floor was the only event left, and then I could collect my medal and, more importantly, money; and be on my merry little way.

I was glugging down a bottle of water, waiting my turn, when I caught a glimpse of black hair. I looked over to see Fang, standing somewhere in the midst of people. I smiled to myself, swishing the last bit of liquid into my mouth before I tossed the empty bottle aside, making my way towards him. As I got closer I saw his lips moving, but I couldn't yet see who he was talking to. There was a profound smirk drawn on his face though, and he even laughed a bit. Odd.

I shoved by a few more people, finally getting a clear shot. There was a petite red-headed girl standing before him, her hand on his arm. Something she said caused a flicker of a smile to grace his lips, and she stepped even closer to him.

This wasn't the Fang I was used to. No, this was cool, calm, charismatic Fang. The one I witnessed at the dinner party held by his mother. The one who was impeccably polite and rarely acknowledged that I was present, as he was too consumed with playing the role of someone he was not.

This time it just happened to be with Lissa.

I gritted my teeth, my hands curling into tight fists. I tried to regulate my breathing, intent on keeping my patience. I couldn't ignore it though. Fang wasn't stupid. He knew when a girl was flirting with him, especially when Lissa was making it as obvious as the sun shining on a cloudless day. Yet he wasn't doing anything to deter her actions. In fact, he seemed to revel in her attention.

Before I could stop myself I was moving forward, an idea forming. So what if I was probably just being irrationally jealous? I wasn't blind, like Iggy. I could see plainly what was occurring before me.

I came to a stop just a few feet away from them. Neither seemed to notice.

"You know, Lissa," I began brightly, disguising my disgust. They both glanced over sharply, Fang's dark eyes completely emotionless. Lissa, quite frankly, didn't look so calm, "I think you were right. You two would make a great couple."

"Wha . . . What?" Lissa asked in faint surprise, her brain working slowly to process the situation at hand.

"Uhuh," I said sweetly. "You guys deserve each other."

"Max-" Fang began earnestly, but I shot him a cold look that had his mouth snapping shut. Before he could regain his composure I turned on my heel, dodging around people like they were a maze I was intent to escape. I could feel Fang hot on my trail, so I veered left sharply, hoping to shake him off. Instead I was met with a short, dim hallway that ended in a plain wall, with nowhere else to run.

I whirled, hoping to slip out again before he caught me. He was there though, his figure tall and menacing in the bright lights of the arena, offset with the darkness consuming the corridor.

"Excuse me, but I need to get back. It's almost time for me to be on." I tried to step around him, but he only mirrored my actions, forcing me to stop.

"Max, come on. Don't do this. I was just talking to her. Since when was that a crime?" he demanded, his voice firm and his gaze unwavering.

"Move," I ordered through clenched teeth, taking deep breaths so I wouldn't explode.

"No."

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way," I snarled, ready to pound his face in.

"Not until we solve this," he insisted.

"Look, Fang, I'm trying to concentrate! This is a big deal to me. I can't really focus when Lissa's throwing herself at you, and you're not doing anything to stop her!" I screamed, throwing my hands into the air. "Jeez, what is it with you and red-heads? First Brigid, and now her?" 

"Actually, Brigid's a natural blonde. She died her hair," Fang smirked.

"You're insufferable."

"But you tolerate me anyway," he said, this time a real smile being pronounced.

"Not anymore."

That wiped his smug grin right of his face. His expression was suddenly and inexplicably serious, an intensity in his obsidian eyes taking over that captured me wholly, leaving me immobile.

"Not funny," he replied grimly, turning me so that my back was pressed against the wall.

"But true," I retorted, becoming breathless at his close proximity. His gaze leveled with mine as he brought his face even closer, so that when I blinked our eyelashes touched, brushing together.

"Is that what you really want?" he asked, his warm breath fanning out across my face. I couldn't help it then. My eyes fluttered shut, not opening again. I gulped, my breath hitching.

"Yes?" I said shakily, though it came out more like a question than a statement, the effect he had on me was so great.

"_No_," he insisted, his mouth covering mine before I could reply. His hands skimmed my sides, then up and over my shoulders, tracing the lines of my face. I gripped the front of his shirt tightly, my fingers going white. His hands finally landed in my hair, curling around the strands; my ponytail somehow coming loose.

I let my fingers untangle from the cloth of his shirt, sliding down to the worn hem. Without pausing or breaking contact with his lips I slid my hand over the smooth planes of his chest, making him shudder. My other hand eventually joined it, my fingers dancing on his bare skin. I raked my nails down his back, pressing him even closer to me.

After what seemed like forever we pulled apart, the lightheaded feeling becoming too much. Fang rested his forehead on mine, murmuring my name over and over again.

"I should get back," I begrudgingly admitted, frowning at the thought of this moment between us coming to an end. "I sort of have a gold medal to win."

He kissed me once more, lightly, before stepping back with a nod. I squeezed his hand one last time before making my way to the end of the hall, him trailing a few steps behind.

I stepped out into the light, and also my impending doom.

**Authors Note: Like I said before, I'm sorry about the drastic change in direction with Jeb and then the competition. Not to mention the actual content of the competition, but I doubt many people want to read through long descriptions of that. I could hardly stand actually watching them when I went to my sisters' meets. I don't go anymore, because I find watching the same thing over and over again extremely boring. I thought I'd try to save you from that.**

**So, once again, I'm sorry that it's a bit rushed. Hopefully, it doesn't come off too much so. Also, REVIEW! You're running out of chances to, after all.**


	30. Tangible

**Authors Note: Have the last couple chapters been that bad? Because there has been a significant drop in reviews. How we go from fifty to twenty nine doesn't make sense to me, especially since both contained **_**so much**_**. Oh well. I won't complain too much. I'm rather grateful anyone is reading this at all. The fact that you are makes me happy (:**

**Anyway, last chapter here people. I'll blab some more at the end.**

**Chapter Thirty:**

_**Tangible**_

I was surprisingly stoic in my giddiness. I didn't do anything stupid, like 'jump for joy' and I wasn't smiling like a complete idiot either. I just sat calmly as Fang drove me back home in silence. Something about this whole experience had aged me past all that immaturity.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked, breaking the comfortable quiet between us.

"Yeah," I replied instantly, my brow furrowing in confusion. "Of course I am. Why?"

He glanced at me briefly, tearing his eyes from the road. "You don't seem very excited."

"I'm sorry," I said with a carefree laugh. "I'll try to be more jubilant."

"I'm not kidding, Max," he said sternly, though I could see the corners of his mouth slowly bend upward. It was something stupid like; If I'm happy, he's happy. His words, not mine. The statement was too cheesy to come from me. "You just placed second at Nationals. That's huge. Not to mention that little twenty grand you got to go alongside it."

"I know. It's just . . . I'll be more excited when it all pays off," I explained, glancing out the window as the buildings rushed past us. Thoughts of Angel, Gazzy and I being a family again made everything seem so worth while.

Fang nodded, no words needed. Without looking at me he detached his right hand from the steering wheel, holding it out to me. I smiled, lacing my fingers through his as I fumbled with the clunky silver medal around my neck. I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do with it just yet.

When we finally pulled to a stop outside of my apartment building I was fully back to myself. No more gymnast Max, who was paranoid and worried; not fully confident in her abilities regardless of the proof strung around her neck. I had resumed my old facade. Yes, badass Max was back, and there to stay.

I knew they would be calling for quite some time after that. Not just the School, but other gyms. They offered me a spot on the Olympic team just for placing so high, but I had no wish to remain in their world. I had officially and fully retired, and there was no going back. Jeb had been right; it _was _our thing, which was why I never wanted anything to do with it ever again.

"Thanks for the ride," I said as I reached for the door handle. "I'll see you later, I guess."

"I'm hoping," he replied, smirking. "Say . . . around eight?"

"That's in, like, two hours," I reminded him.

"Yup. I have to run a few errands, but I should be back in time. Meet me on the roof?" he inquired, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief and some emotion I couldn't discern.

"Sure," I said warily, raising an eyebrow in question. He just shook his head, smirking profusely like he knew some joke I just wasn't getting. He probably knew this would only make me more curious.

"It's a surprise. Wear something pretty," he said mockingly, and I punched his shoulder.

"Is it something you have to strive for, or does it just come naturally?" I asked as I opened the car door, stepping out onto the sidewalk.

"What?"

"Being an asshole," I stated before slamming the door shut. I could see him chuckling to himself until his car escaped my sight. Even then I stood outside, waiting for something unknown. Finally I managed to drag myself away, mounting the steps with careful precision. There was a feeling in my gut that made me slow; a sense of foreboding piercing warning into my stomach.

I walked past the rooms on my floor, my brow furrowing as doors slammed as soon as I passed. What was with people today? Even the land lord, who I had seen when I first came in, had run for her office the second she caught sight of me.

I shrugged it off, deciding it wasn't my place to pry. I wasn't really up to figuring out why they were acting so strange either. Instead I brushed it to the back of my mind as I fished my key out of my pocket. When I fit it into the lock though, I was surprised to find it already open. With the utmost caution I pushed the door open, slowly stepping into the darkened room.

The shabby blinds over the few windows were drawn to a close, and all the lights were off. I gently set my bag on the floor, creeping further into the room. I was positive the curtains had been open when I left. Looking around though, nothing seemed out of place. Why anybody would want to rob a rundown building like this was beyond me, anyway.

"Hello?" I asked loudly, feeling stupid. No one else could possibly be here besides my mother, who still hadn't set foot from her bedroom. That in itself wasn't surprising.

"Max," a small, wilted voice said from the corner. I couldn't stop myself from jumping, turning swiftly to face where the speaker sat. I peered into the shadows, trying to make out who it was.

Without taking my eyes from where their vague outline was I traversed across the small living room, flicking the table lamp on as I went. A faint amount of illumination filtered throughout the room, casting a yellow light across the shadows. I could now see the person's face.

"Mom?" I gasped, barely able to contain my shock. I immediately stilled, my hand still hovering beside the lamp.

"Yes," she said simply, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked like death, all hollow ridges and sallow skin tone. The shirt she wore billowed around her sickly frame, encompassing her completely in its folds. If I peered closer I could see her hands trembling as her whole body quivered unnaturally. Her eyes flicked back and forth quickly, as if she couldn't settle.

"You're . . ." I mumbled, trailing off. I couldn't seem to keep my thoughts straight. "What's going on?"

"Sit down, baby," she said gently, in a tone reminiscent to the one she used when I was younger, and she was still my mother; happy and friendly, with a smile that could light up the night. "We have a lot to talk about."

With jerky movements I obliged, falling into the couch as if I was suddenly too weak to stand. In fact, it felt like all my previous strength had drained out of me completely.

"I know about Angel and Gazzy," she whispered, her wide eyes becoming watery with tears.

"How?" I demanded, more harshly than I intended. "You've been holed up in your room for years. How could you possibly know anything?"

"I was awake when they came. I heard the whole thing," she explained. "These walls weren't made for secrets. I know a lot more than you could imagine."

"Assuming you weren't high when it all transpired," I snarled, some of my previous anger leaking through.

"I haven't had any drugs since my last . . . fit. What you said really struck a chord within me, Max. It's just taken me awhile to realize it," she murmured, her voice cracking.

"What are you trying to say?" I snapped, unsure of where this was going, and hating the hope her words instilled within me.

"I'm going to try, baby, to get completely sober. Things around here are going to change. The responsibilities you've had because of my poor judgement will no longer be yours."

"And you think that's going to fix things?" I shrieked, jumping to my feet. She winced at my shrill tone, sitting back in her chair. "You think going sober is going to bring Angel and Gazzy back? It's not. You already lost them once. They're not going to give them back because of some promise you make, when you've already broken too many to count. It never should have happened in the first place!"

"Max, please sit down," she said in what I assumed was a stern voice. "Let's talk about this calmly."

"I'm tired of being calm!" I screamed. "Mom, you've been a zombie for almost nine years. Now all of a sudden you've decided you're ready to take on your role, and I'm just supposed to accept that? I've practically raised those children. I'm more of a mother to them than you've ever been. You don't deserve another chance, don't you get that?"

"I'm not asking for another chance, and I'm not asking you to forgive me. I just need time to try. I know how selfish I've been for most of your life, but that will change, whether you like it or not. Things _are _going to change, and it _will _be for the better."

"Oh really? And what makes you think you won't go into a relapse, mhm? What makes you think you're strong enough to not turn to drugs the second it gets a little hard to manage?" I snarled.

"I'm going to rehab," she informed me, her eyes devoid of any emotion. They were still as dead as before, but a small spark was beginning to kindle deep within her, her spirit returning.

"We can't afford that. We can barely afford food, no thanks to you." I wasn't sure if she knew about my recent richness, so I decided to play dumb with her.

"I'm going to rehab," she insisted. "We're moving out of this apartment."

"We're not made of money! We can't afford anything else!" I bellowed, wondering how on earth she was figuring all this out. Had she finally, at some point, gone crazy?

"I called my sister," she said patiently, forging on. "You're aunt Valencia. Her and her daughter, Ella, are moving out here. They're going to help us get back on our feet. We'll move into a house, a _real _house, together. We'll work on getting Angel and Gazzy back. It won't happen quick and it won't be done tomorrow, but we'll do it. I'm going to make things better, Max. For us all, but especially for you. You deserve it so much more than anyone."

I gaped at her, like a fish out of water. Surely she was joking! I had heard about her having a sister. We have pictures, stored somewhere in a box of old photos. I could clearly see the two of them from when they were about my age. Aunt Valencia would have been a few years older, her hair a shade darker than Mom's. They had the same eyes though, a feature I shared with the both of them.

"I . . ." I stuttered. "I think I'm going to go take a shower. I'm meeting somebody later."

"That boy?" she inquired softly. Her memory must stretch pretty far, if she was able to remember the day in which Fang had walked in on one of her fits.

"Yes," I answered simply, wondering why she cared to ask.

"Max-" she began, something in her tone I recognized from movies.

"Don't. Just don't," I stated emotionlessly. "You had your chance to be my mother, but that's over now. You have no right to say anything about what I do and whom I do it with, so don't even think of trying."

I hurried from the room before she could speak again. This was too much to handle all in one day. Winning the silver medal at Nationals, and also getting twenty grand. Then coming home to find my mother sober, the one thing I had wished for my entire life. The promises she made sounded so surreal, like a tangible dream of mine.

I stepped into the shower after shedding my clothes, letting the lukewarm water wash over me. I closed my eyes briefly, taking deep breaths; afraid that when I opened them again, I would find that all of this was a dream. After everything that had happened, this seemed too good to be true. Almost perfect.

When I finished dressing again I checked the clock, noting that Fang should be back any time. I must have taken a longer shower than expected. Not wanting to face my mother again, but knowing the transaction was inevitable, I quickly moved towards the front door. Luckily, she was somewhere in the kitchen, banging around the pots and pans.

I forced myself to pause, hand hovering over the doorknob. It was such a . . . domestic sound. Memories from better years, before Jeb ran out and Mom was still healthy and normal, came back to me, swimming in my vision.

I opened my mouth to call out to her; maybe a warning that I was leaving. Then I remembered she didn't even deserve that much, and the only sound I made was the slamming of the door as I disappeared down the hall.

I grumbled to myself as I climbed the fire escape, asking myself; who actually plans a meeting on the roof of an apartment building? It was Fang though, and I could never claim to understand the way his mind worked.

I almost tripped over a piece of rotted pipe when I finally reached the top, cursing as I caught myself on a crate. This seemed to get the attention of the dark figure standing by the edge across me. He turned, the dull lighting of the street lamps below casting his face in shadows, making his smirk seem more defined and mysterious.

"I thought I told you to wear something pretty?" Fang asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied my apparel of jeans and a sweatshirt. I rolled my eyes as I neared him.

"I would have, had you not factored in the temperature. It's freezing," I scolded him, hugging myself around the middle in an attempts to ward off the chilling wind, shivering even as I spoke the words.

"Actually, that makes me a genius," he replied cockily, holding his arms out to me. I sighed, shaking my head. Even so I stepped into his warm embrace, breathing in his comforting scent.

"What are we doing up here anyway?" I inquired, staring up at him. He glanced down, our gazes locking. Something in his eyes shimmered, the depth less pools given a new radiance.

"We're up here so we can watch the stars," he whispered, kissing the tip of my nose. I shuddered, making him chuckle to himself.

"Ew. Cliche much? Why would you want to do that?" I asked crossly, though the idea was strikingly . . . appealing, even considering it was straight out of a romance novel.

He shrugged, not replying. We were then launched into a comfortable silence, just holding each other as the inky blackness of the night spread, darkness settling around us like a thick blanket. Eventually we moved, as the first twinkling stars flickered in the deep blue sky. We sat side by side, our hips pressed together. I rested my head on his shoulder, tilting it back so I could see the large expanse of the sky.

"You never did tell me, why exactly you were fighting in the first place," I reminded him nonchalantly, the quiet between us becoming too much. "I mean, obviously it wasn't a necessity for survival. It was just something you did . . . right?" 

"In a way . . ." he admitted, staring down at me with a hooded expression. "This story kind of ties in with my history with Dylan."

"Then by all means, start at the beginning," I suggested.

He sighed, staying silent for a moment. Finally he began speaking, his tone neutral; "Around when I was thirteen or fourteen, I went through a stage. I pretty much revolted against my parents. You know, the usual rebelling, except I got in way too deep with some pretty dangerous shit. I kind of joined up with Dylan and his gang, I guess."

"You were in Dylan's gang?" I exclaimed, gaping. One look from him silenced me, and I let him continue, pressing my hand to my mouth to stop myself from speaking again.

"As I was saying," he said pointedly, "I started running around with Dylan and his cronies. That's when I first saw you. I couldn't help but wonder what it took to get a girl like you to be interested in somebody. By that time I had realized what a d-bag Dylan was, and I was on the verge of getting out. I wasn't really sure what to do . . . but you decided for me."

"_Me_?" I asked incredulously, and this time he didn't seem bothered by my interruption. I, on the other hand, was shocked. I remember faintly some of Dylan's friends from before, but I never remembered seeing Fang amongst them.

He nodded before continuing. "Even then you were elusive and intriguing. It's like you didn't even notice the way all the guys tripped over themselves to be around you. Dylan loved it. To him he had the girl nobody else could get. That was when I knew I had to get away from that bad business. I told myself that if I was going to be anything, it was good enough for you."

"You're lying," I said with a snort, not believing a word he said. I was the reason he got some sense knocked into him? No way.

"Moving on. During that time I got hooked up in the high of street fighting. I loved it, knocking the lights out of somebody you didn't even know for money. It was a thrill, especially since I knew if my parents found out, they'd lock me up themselves . . . Even after quiting on Dylan, I couldn't bring myself to stop. I had started something that I had no control over. I couldn't just walk away. If I ever doubted myself for doing it, I just reminded myself it was a way to stay grounded; to control my anger. That was crap though, but I made it an excuse anyway."

"And that's it?" I pondered, raising an eyebrow. He shot me an incredulous look, shaking his hair out into his eyes.

"I hardly call that nothing," he reprimanded.

"I know, it's just . . . You were with Dylan? _Really_?" I demanded, leaning into him as we were buffeted by yet another icy wind.

He chuckled slightly, smirking down at me. I smiled as he brought his head closer to mine, his hair brushing my forehead. I swept it away from his face with my other hand, tilting his chin as I did so. His lips touched mine gently, then with more pressure as he shifted so that he could kiss me better. My fingers got lost in his dark hair, as his hands gripped my waist hungrily, my shirt riding up slightly.

He pulled back suddenly, his face shrouded in darkness as he stared at me pensively, his obsidian eyes alight. I was so breathless it took me a moment to register he was speaking.

"Max, I . . . There's something I need to tell you," he insisted with a deadly seriousness. I paused in my actions to untangle my hands from his hair, my brow furrowing in confusion.

"What?" I inquired.

"I . . . I . . ." he trailed off in frustration, sighing as he looked skyward. I tugged loosely on a lock of his hair, forcing his gaze back to me. "I just . . . I l-like you. A lot. More than anybody else."

I smiled, taking pity on him. I could only fathom how hard this must be for him, admitting such emotion; Mr. Rock himself.

"I like you too," I said slyly, grinning up at him. I didn't hate him for not saying he loved me. I don't think either of us was ready for that yet. Love was something we both took seriously. We would get there eventually. Some day -there would irrevocably come a time- when there wouldn't be a doubt in his mind as to whether we loved each other unconditionally. I could wait until then.

Then he smiled the smile that took my breath away, putting to shame all the rest. Even the stars twinkling against the black satin of the sky couldn't compare to the light shining from him at that moment. He kissed me again, with more feeling than ever could be expressed in words. That was all the reassurance I needed to know he would be sticking around for a long, _long _time.

"By the way," I breathed, "Leroy says we can borrow the gym for a few hours next week."

"For what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I still want that rematch."

_**The End**_

**Authors Note: Finished! Gah, it's finally done and posted. *Sniffle* I do believe I'm going to miss writing it :(**

**Special thanks to everyone that's stuck with me from beginning to end. I wish I had the patience to go through and figure out exactly who you are. You know if you have.**

**Also a huge thanks to ANYONE that's reviewed. Each and every one of you are life sustaining. That also goes with anyone who's favorited or alerted this story and/or me, as well. You guys give me so much inspiration, and I -quite literally- couldn't have done this without you.**

**Thanks for making this my most popular story yet. Hopefully, with my coming stories, I can get better and better.**

**Also; Yes, Max didn't win first place. Why? That's just **_**way **_**too cliche for my taste. Besides, that wouldn't have been fair to some of the people who worked very hard to get where they were in the competition, right? (; I also hope you like the way I -sort of- brought Dr. Martinez and Ella into the story.**

**I guess all I have to say now is another giant thanks, and ask if you'll review just one more time! (: **


	31. Sequel is PUBLISHED!

***EDIT NUMERO DOS!* Letz do this, yo!**

**Are you excited? Are you SUPER excited? Are you SUPER DUPER excited? Are you- "shut up already I don't care at all"? (Please don't be the last one.) **

**Because you're getting this notification as an announcement that the first chapter of the sequel to THE has been published for the public of FFN. Yayayay! So I sincerely hope you are (see above paragraph) !**

**So go to my page RIGHT NOW (unless you have me on author alert or something and have already seen that the story was published), and click on: The Complicated Aftermath. Hopefully, you won't regret it.**

**That is all. (insert heart here) !**

**P.S. You still smell like a rainbow. (I'm completely serious. You are just THAT awesome!)**

***EDIT* I didn't want to make an entirely new chapter to tell you guys this, so I figured I'll just add on my updates to this. Smart, I know. I take full credit for the genius idea. ;)**

**Anyway . . . UHM HOLY FRIGGING CRAP/ALL KINDS OF OTHER THINGS YOU CAN USE YOUR IMAGINATION TO COME UP WITH! You. All. RULE! So so so much. Yeah. Major rulezage on your part. Like, forrealz. The amount of positive feedback I got was amazing. It made me so happy that after all this time, so many of you would still be interested in a sequel. I could go on and explain fully how much your support means . . . but that's not really what you want to hear.**

**You want to know about the sequel that is definitely gonna happen.**

**Basically, it'll get published sometime soon(ish) after I finish up the current story I'm working on (the third story in my Magical Mayhem series, which is an MR/HP crossover [more info on that coming later if you happen to be a reader of that story as well]).**

**I've already started writing it, and I have a BUNCH of cRaZy stuff planned. You have no idea. You really don't. There are going to be some insane twists and the like that you'll never see coming (hopefully). It might not be quite as . . . action-y as THE, but hopefully it'll live up to your standards.**

**I'll post here again when the sequel is officially published and on FF. I don't want to give too much away, but as of now you can be on the lookout for the title (possibly subject to change):**

_**The Complicated Aftermath**_

**I hope you're SUPER EXCITED! :D**

**Oh, and; it's not going to let you review again on this chapter if you already have, so either log out and leave an anonymous review or send me a PM if you have questions and/or comments. I'll try to get back to you if necessary.**

**And don't forget all of you are magically-wonderfully-majestically-splendid people! (Apparently when I wrote all of that as one word, it didn't show up on FF. I'm curious to see if it will now, with the dashes in between. If you're totally confused and wondering what I'm talking about, then obviously it blanked out again.)**

**Thanks doodz. (My attempts at being a hipster, haha)**

***EDIT COMPLETE***

**Hey guys! (:**

**So I know I replied to A LOT of people who asked if there was going to be a sequel, saying no. And obviously it's been awhile since the end of The Hostile Encounters. But I was randomly thinking about it one day, and I decided maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. I mean, it's not like I don't have a BUNCH of stuff to base a sequel on. It wouldn't be that hard to find a starting place for another story.**

**The only problem is, I have SO many other story ideas I want to write. Some of them I've had for a VERY long time, too. I'd really like to focus on those . . . but lately, I haven't been writing. Like, at all. This = bad. Plus, I've been having a lot of additional ideas for this particular universe I've created, along with the ideas you guys have given me, so I think a sequel might be worth the shot.**

**Anybody interested? **

**If nobody's going to read it then I'd feel silly for writing it. I think it might help me get out of my slump though. **

**That being said, review and tell me what you think. Or send me a PM if you'd like. Either will work. I just need some feedback on whether or not I should continue. It seemed like a lot of people liked The Hostile Encounters, and even though I haven't had very good experience with sequels, if you lovely readers can still find the interest for the storyline, I'd (finally) be more than happy to supply you with the material.**

**Yes?**

**No?**

**INFORM ME OF YOUR DECISION PLEASE. (Yes, all caps was completely necessary for that). It would be of you. (Yes, that is in fact, NOT a word. Bear [Bare? Mhmm *thoughtful face*] with me people)**

_**I am now finished wasting your time. You may continue with your life.**_

**P.S. You are all people, and I am truly grateful for the support given to me throughout THE (hahahahah! I just realized when you abbreviate The Hostile Encounters it spells THE! I never even noticed before. How exciting). I love each and every one of you in a completely appropriate, writer-to-reader way. Your wasted time spent reading my work is much appreciate. Don't ever forget any of that, especially the part where it says you are ''. You know it's true. YOU. ARE. AMAZING! Really, you are. I know it. Don't question these things.**

**I will now officially depart with the wise words of Bobby Mares, and say: You smell like a rainbow. **

**Yes. That's right.**

**[Don't forget to review/PM me]**


	32. Overdue Farewell

(I'm sorry in advance if this excites anyone too much. A handful of people still have THE on alerts, so hopefully no one was expecting outrageous news.)

Awhile back, after a failed attempt at writing another MR story, I decided that it was high time I "retired" from FF. I posted a couple oneshots, the latest being _Hallucinogen_. In it, I briefly touched on the matter of my retirement, stating that it was somewhat of a farewell story. That still holds very true.

However, I just spent about the last two hours reading through some of the reviews people have left me over my many years of writing fanfiction. I cried a little bit (again), and was overall extremely choked up. This inevitably led to me reminiscing and second guessing virtually every decision I've made in the course of my "career" as an FF writer for Maximum Ride. Mainly that being my decision to end the Magical Mayhem series with a oneshot instead of a full story, and deleting _The Immeasurable Ending_ (for those who are confused, I chose to extend THE into a trilogy, before taking that back and sticking with _The Complicated Aftermath_as a single sequel). Basically, I wondered what could have possibly happened had I done all the things I originally planned.

Before you start getting too worked up, this isn't me suddenly turning around and deciding to do it all over again. I'm not. There's a whopping zero centimeters of space left in my life for such things. My writing for the Maximum Ride fandom (or any other, for that matter) is long, long gone and past. It's as over as the actual series. As I stated in _Hallucinogen_, I was around twelve/thirteen when I started dabbling in the art of writing fanfiction on this site. I'm sixteen years old now, which may not seem like a whole lot to some of you, but I've grown so much, and in so many different ways since posting my first story.

This most notably being in my skill as a writer.

I've gone from (somewhat) perfectly channeling Max and the characters of James Patterson's MR world, to writing a novel of my own. FanFiction was my crutch for writing way too long. I wonder if anybody can grasp just how difficult it was for me, branching out on my own? It was so hard to create my own characters. I still have trouble with it. I feel like I know Max, Fang, Iggy, Nudge, the Gasman and Angel better than I know myself sometimes. Having to rely solely on my creativity is an obstacle that I have yet to fully leap. I'm almost there, straddling that line. It's going to take some time before I'm comfortable enough within myself to leave fanfiction behind completely, and dwell with absolute certainty into the limitless bounds of my imagination.

That being said, I **did **write a short novel. The only person I've allowed to read it is my grandma. She's a pretty amazing lady, but most of all I knew she'd tell me the stark truth, even if she thought it'd hurt my feelings. She's always been the most supportive of my writing, and I value her opinion above virtually all others. I plan to show it to a couple more people soon, once I've smoothed some of the rougher edges.

I don't want to go into great detail. It may never turn into anything but a manuscript gathering dust on my shelf. Maybe it'll be something great. In complete truth, I'm not sure what the future holds, or what I'm even willing to allow myself to hope.

I just wanted to thank you, even the people who will never see this. Even the people who are just seeing my work for the first time. I would be nowhere without you, and there are no words to fully describe how grateful I am . . .

But if you're willing to stick with me for what will hopefully be a rewarding ride, I'll definitely return the favor.

From the very bottom of my heart, **thank you**.


End file.
